


Here and Home

by deni269



Series: The Walking Deth [4]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Child Loss, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deni269/pseuds/deni269
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth and Daryl find themselves on the other side of Washington DC, but after meeting the maniacal leader of the society they have settled into, they begin to wonder if they are on the right side. They are about to discover just how big the distance is between here and home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So the original plan was to write the first six chapters and post all together, but I think I feed of reviews for my motivation so I will release them one or two at a time instead.
> 
> *Spoiler alert* This part of the story will contain some comic book spoilers. I have changed things up a little, and Daryl and Beth don't actually appear in the comic books anyway. But consider this your warning if you do not like spoilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So if you know the comic books you are probably pooping your pants right now! This Negan is based on a character I came up with back when I was writing part II, and before I had read the comic books. I have now read up to issue 115, and Negan was so similar to my OC that I decided to just amalgamate them. Hope you like him (or like to hate him).
> 
> Hope the mini flashbacks weren't to confusing. I'm experimenting here.

 

* * *

_"You'll keep us safe, won't you Momma Beth?" Anna asked, looking up at me with uncertainty in her clear blue eyes._

_"Yes." I had promised._

_…_

I could feel his handgun pressed into the back of my head, the recently fired metal hot and hard. I knew what he was going to do with it. I could accept it; I knew there was no other way.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, clutching to his back, feeling the strength of his body against mine for the last time, and waited for it all to end.

The gunshot cracked and echoed over the sound of a thousand hungry walkers, like heavy thunder clouds crashing together in the sky.

The spattering across my cheek felt thick and cold. It wasn't the spray-back from a living source, and it couldn't be from me; I was still alive. I opened my eyes and shot up from Daryl's lap, searching the sea of walkers for the source of the rapid gunfire that continued to shatter the air.

Walker heads were exploding all around us, showering us in cold brain matter and fragments of skull. I wiped at the clumps of congealed blood that interrupted my vision and twisted in my seat to see a large military truck with six huge wheels and a timber slatted cage surrounding the tray, sailing through the dead ocean.

The truck took a sudden turn, drifting to the side pulverising dead bodies into airborne splatter, and stopped with the rear facing the front of the bike. A wooden gate dropped down, flattening a huddle of walkers into a puddle of rotting flesh, and forming a ramp into the truck. Several men and women stood in the tray of the truck, firing into the crowd around us.

"Ride 'er up, Wyatt!" One of the men shouted, as he waved his arm forcefully through the air, his voice barely audible above the roar of walkers.

Daryl didn't hesitate; he dropped his weapons between his thighs, propelled the bike forward and straight up the ramp, with me gripping on to his waist to keep myself from slipping off.

* * *

…

_"I'm scared, Miss Beth." Tommy C timidly ran his finger over the satin lining of his blanket._

_"Of what?"_

_"Of going to Washington, what if they won't let us in?"_

_"Then we'll go somewhere else."_

_"All of us?"_

_"Yes, all of us." I had replied._

_…_

The tray of the truck rocked and bounced and tousled us about. My stomach had been churning ever since the bus had tumbled around me while I had been firmly strapped into the driver seat. And since I had seen all those little lifeless bodies. I vomited again at the thought, into the corner of the truck's tray, causing the boots of the strangers to dart away quickly.

As soon as we had come aboard, the four men and three women had turned their weapons on us and urged us off the bike. Now I was standing with my back pressed against the cracked and splintered wood of the ramp that had just been used to rescue us, with Daryl standing in front of me gun in hand and aimed at the largest looking man.

The people surrounding us looked rough. Real rough. Rougher than the people who had attacked the school, but also better fed, which made them more threatening. They were covered in scars, body piercings or tattoos, or all three together, and their clothing was all dirt and leather and torn denim. They didn't seem to be military, which would have been a relief to Daryl, but the way they were holding their guns on us and eyeing over the bike made me think our rescuers were not rescuers at all.

…

_"Those bad men, what if they follow us, what if we get hurt?" Nathan asked as he edged his way into the bus seat._

_"Daryl and I will make sure nothing happens to you." I had told him._

_…_

The man who had waved us aboard stepped forward and rubbed a hand over the handlebars of the bike. His arms and what could be seen of his chest were covered in tattoos and greying hair speckled with ginger. He looked to be much older than Daryl, but his sun tanned skin still strained against his bulging muscles.

"1998 Fatboy." He called over the rumble of the engine, with a pleased grin on his face. "My wife finally let me have one of these for my fiftieth birthday…She's long gone now." He turned his grey eyes towards us. "The bike…and my wife."

…

_"I don't want Daryl to fall off, what if he gets hurt, or if he dies?" Tommy J's chubby chest started to heave, signifying the beginning of one of his panic attacks. I placed the usual comforting hand on his back and rubbed it in a circular motion._

_"No-one else is going to die." I had told him._

_…_

The man walked around the bike and rubbed his hand over the bow and rummaged through the saddlebags to retrieve the empty gun. Daryl sneered and I could hear him growling like a wild animal when he touched the crossbow. The man's eyes glanced at Daryl and his shoulders shook as he laughed at him.

…

_"Sometimes I think you're more bad-ass than Daryl, Beth." Austin, trudged through the damp grass to retrieve the arrow I had just fired into the tree. "You think one day I'll be able to use it as good as you guys?"_

_"One day you'll be even better." I had replied._

_…_

"Alright sweetheart, let me have a look at you." The man stepped towards me with his leathery hand reached out.

Daryl cocked the gun and held it only a few inches from the man's face, and six weapons were pointed at Daryl's head.

The man who approached me held his hands into the air. "Keep your cool, Wyatt. I'm not gonna hurt her, just gotta check for bites."

"She ain't bit." Daryl growled. His ice cold glare was terrifying even to me.

…

_"Momma Beth?" I turned from my book to see Lyra was holding on to her arm, her hand covered in blood._

_My heart in my throat, I scanned the fence quickly to see where the walker who bit her was, but I couldn't see anything._

_"What happened?" I asked as I pulled her fingers away to examine the wound._

_"I hurt myself on the wire." She replied, dropping her eyes to the ground guiltily._

_"I told you to be careful around the fence." I scolded as I drew her into my chest for a relieved hug. "I don't think I could handle losing one of you kids."_

_…_

"So you say, but she's been vomiting, may have the fever, and either way I gotta do my job."

Daryl didn't drop the weapon or the glare, but he allowed the man to edge closer to me and tug up the sleeves of my sweater and then examine my neck.

"Got a nasty bruise there, you get into a fight?"

I tried to speak but all that came out was a choked gurgle.

"Car accident." Daryl answered for me, his gun still aimed at the man.

…

_"Won't we need seatbelts, Momma Beth?" Jovan asked while he searched around on the seat for the non-existent belt._

_"School buses don't have seatbelts." I told him._

_"That's silly." He screwed up his little face._

_"It is." I agreed._

_…_

The man hummed thoughtfully and took a step back.

"Your turn, Wyatt." He turned back to Daryl.

Daryl forced the gun into my hand, and then slipped of his poncho, his vest and his shirt and threw them between his legs.

If our lives weren't under threat I may have been bothered by the stupid grins that grew on the faces of the women as they eyed over his muscular arms and shoulders. But our lives _were_ under threat, and the only thing I really cared about was all the kids I had just lost.

The man examined Daryl's chest, shoulder and back.

"You done it tough out there, huh?" He asked as he prodded at the scars on Daryl's back.

"None of 'y business." Daryl retorted, grabbing at his shirt and pulling it back over his head.

…

_"What happened to him?" Lawson asked, nodding towards Daryl. He had seen his scars when his shirt had lifted while trying to put the ball in the hoop._

_"A bad man hurt him." I replied._

_"Who was it?"_

_"Someone who was supposed to keep him safe."_

_His lip turned out in a thoughtful pout. "You wouldn't hurt us, would you?"_

_"No. Never." I had told him._

…

"The name's Wallace." He held out a genial hand for Daryl to shake.

Daryl reluctantly took it, gave it a firm shake and then turned to grab the gun from my hand.

"And your name is?...Unless you want me to keep callin' you Wyatt?"

"Wyatt is fine." Daryl grunted.

Wallace's eyes turned back to me.

"And your daughter, shall I call her 'the kid'?"

Daryl didn't correct him about the name, or about me being his daughter, he just nodded his head slowly.

"Okay _easy riders_ , I take it you plan on comin' with us?"

Daryl gave his head a single firm shake. "We're headin' into DC, got some people in there."

Wallace doubled over and started howling like a hyena as he slapped against his knee in an over-exaggerated display of amusement. "Didn't you see the mass of gnashers surrounding the city? It's like that the whole way 'round. No-one's gettin' in or out of that place."

My stomach churned again, and I gagged and choked back another mouthful of stomach fluid.

We had lost those children for nothing; we weren't even going to be able to get into DC. Without a confirmed location there was no way we would be able to find the others. My knees started to buckle and I gripped on to the timber slats to keep my balance as my head spun, exaggerated as I continued to be thrown from side to side by the movement of the truck.

"So you're comin'?"

Daryl glared in response.

"Or would you rather we open the truck and let you out, with your…"He pointed at the gun in Daryl's hand. "…no more than ten rounds."

The gun twitched slightly in Daryl's hand. I knew there were less than ten bullets left in the thing.

Wallace had made it clear that if we were leaving, we were leaving without the bike and bows. We didn't need to discuss our choices.

"Guess we are." Daryl flicked the safety up and lowered the gun.

"Good. Then you won't mind me asking you a few questions…three to be exact."

His words sent a jolt of hope through my chest. If they were the same three questions that the prison council had come up with, then maybe Rick and the others were with these people.

"The first one is can you fight? But that's kinda redundant; we saw the way you were stabbing your way through those gnashers." He pointed to the outside of the truck, which was now walker free, the view now replaced with lifeless buildings. "So we'll move on to the second one. Will you fight?"

Daryl nodded his head. "There's no choice in that."

"Last question. Will you kill?"

These were not the prison questions.

Daryl's hand twitched against the gun by his side. "Kill for what?"

"To survive."

Daryl's eyes darkened as he stared Wallace down.

"There's no choice in that either."

* * *

I spent the rest of the journey with my face pressed up against the gaps between the wooden slats, watching my surroundings go past. We had been driving for around thirty minutes, and we seemed to have circled around Washington, driving down streets that looked as if they had been cleared of vehicles some time recently.

We turned down a road that looped around back on to itself, and was surrounded by three multi story sprawling buildings. The first one looked to be the office for some kind of petroleum company. The second was a medical clinic. And the third was a hotel.

The first two buildings looked to be relatively clear, but the hotel was swarming with Walkers, moaning and groaning and crawling over each other trying to get to the steel rent- a-fence that surrounded the hotel. I suppressed a gag as the scent of sun baked rot hit my nostrils.

When the truck turned to head through the herd of walkers I turned around and looked at Wallace wondering why we were going to the most dangerous building.

He noticed my inquisitive look. "It's okay sweetheart, they're all chained up."

I looked back out the gaps to see he was right. They were all chained to the fence, or to poles dug into the ground. Some had the poles impaled right through them. It looked like the wall to a medieval kingdom after a mass execution.

The truck approached an under croft that skimmed against the top of the cage as we passed under it. I expected it to be dim under there, but there was light coming from several long lamps spaced apart on the wall.

The truck came to a stop, and Daryl and I both shifted to the side, squeezing between two of the other seven bodies in the truck so we could see outside.

There was a gate directly in front of us with two men standing by it. One of them produced what looked like a white card, swiped it against the wall and the gate slowly rolled open.

"You still have power?" Daryl looked back over his shoulder at Wallace.

"We got a few generators, and a solar hook-up, but the card readers are about the only thing you can rely on."

I felt Daryl's hand twitch against mine as if he wanted me to hold it. I didn't move, but after a moment he grabbed it anyway.

" 'least it's somethin'." He murmured into my ear.

* * *

We left the truck and the bike in the car bay, only being permitted to take Daryl's bag and our weapons, which made me feel a little less nervous. We passed by several people who were working on the numerous other vehicles parked under there, who glanced up at us, but didn't seem surprised or bothered by the appearance of strangers.

"Got a bike for you to check out." Wallace called to one of the guys while thumbing over his shoulder back to the truck.

The man waved a spanner in the air in acknowledgment and then went back to working on the car.

We took the emergency stairs up to the foyer, still lined with expensive looking artwork on the walls and rugs on the floor. Wallace said something to one of the men we had come in with, and he raced past us back to the stairwell.

We stopped in the middle of the hotel foyer and the sight before me would have made me smile, if I didn't feel so awfully empty inside.

There were children chasing each other through the halls, climbing over chairs and using hotel trolleys to race each other, and there were small huddles of women and children in groups sitting on the floor with books and pencils, as if they were in school.

…

_"I think I'll be a teacher when I grow up Momma Beth, like you." Marie smiled wistfully towards the white board at the front of the room. "Do you think I'll be able to?"_

_"Of course you will." I had said._

_…_

The majority of people looked rough, just like the ones who had rescued us from the herd, but the rest of them just looked like normal everyday people, a little weary from survival if anything.

"How long things been like this for?" Daryl asked as he followed after Wallace, eyes passing over our surroundings.

"We've been here for over a year now. We had to work hard to get what we got, but it was worth it. We've never had a breach in the wall. Got a decent greenhouse out back, but whatever we can't grow, we barter for. Enough water supply to shower once a week." He grinned back at us. "Better than anything you would find in Washington."

"Is there anyone here named Rick? Police officer, has a son named Carl? "Daryl kept the pace with Wallace. I stumbled along after them, my legs still feeling like Jell-O.

Wallace shook his head. "No-one like that here."

"A big guy with red hair, and a geeky lookin' thing with a mullet?"

"Nope."

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, feeling like I was going to be sick again. Daryl grabbed my wrist and dragged me along behind him.

…

_"Momma?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"I love you."_

_"I love you too, Winnie."_

…

We turned into an office behind the reservation desk, and Wallace offered us seats by a large desk. He introduced us to two men, who appeared to be paper pushers, looking through books and wearing glasses.

"How're we for supplies?" Wallace asked when he was done with introductions.

"Getting low on pork. Will have to go out again in the next few days. Might need to do another medical run too." The man named Paul replied.

Wallace turned back to Daryl and I. "We run a pretty smooth ship here. I think you'll like it once you get used to the way we do things."

Daryl nodded his head slowly in acceptance and then glanced back to me. I tried to force a smile, but it was like my muscles were set in a permanent frown, so I just dropped my eyes to the desk in front of me.

"We'll work out where you two can help us out and where you'll be sleeping when the boss gets in."

"The boss?" Daryl raised a brow in mild surprise. "That ain't you?"

"Hell no! I don't have the balls to run somethin' like this, plus I'm too old." Wallace chuckled lightly to himself.

"Where is he?"

"He's probably with Mandy…or Candy…"

"Or Sandy." Paul added.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glanced over at me.

I knew what he was thinking. This boss was obviously a womaniser. I could see him and Daryl having a clash of personalities already.

"It was Sherry, the wife, actually." Came a confident voice from behind us.

I turned in my seat and examined the man standing in the doorway. He was tall. About a foot taller than Daryl, and he had shoulders wider than Daryl's too. He was dressed in a clean cotton tee that clung to his meaty chest, and a neat pair of jeans. His short black hair was slicked down at the sides, and mounded up in the middle. His jaw was strong and chiselled and when he grinned, as he was now, his cheeks raised and pointed, making his face look like a problem on a geometry paper.

I heard scuffling behind me and turned to see Paul and Mark had come of their chairs and gone down to a knee like they were before a king. Wallace simply nodded his head towards the man.

"Sir." They all mumbled together.

The man walked in, with his eyes locked on me, and perched himself on the end of the desk, he extended a strong looking hand out to me.

"I'm Negan."

* * *

 


	2. They Never Do

 

Beth stared at his extended hand and I stared at him. It was bad enough that the guy had a line of bitches, now he was eyeing Beth like she was candy in a shop front.

"This is Wyatt and his daughter 'The kid'." Wallace introduced us.

Negan screwed his face up. "What the fuck kind of names are they? You cowboys or something?"

"Nope. Found them on a motorcycle in the DC mass."

Negan glared at Wallace. "Fuck you, you ancient shit."

He pulled out a chair, and kicked his boots up on to the table, while casually resting his hands behind his head.

"You run back upstairs and get Lucille, I left her behind." He said to the timid looking Carson.

Carson bowed his head and hurried from the room. I hoped having one of his girls around would stop him from looking at Beth like she was something to eat.

"So you've come to join our fun house?" Negan's eyes fell back on me.

I glared at him in response.

"Don't look so fucking serious. You'll love it here." He opened his arms into the air, motioning to the hotel. "'course, you can't stay here for free, this hotel carries a tariff." He began listing things off on his fingers. "Gotta cover Wi-Fi, room service, in-house movies." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You'll like those."

"You have all that?"

"Hell fucking no! I'm just fucking with you." He chuckled loudly, his shoulders shaking, then gave a drawn out sigh and began examining his finger nails in a display of casualness. "But you do have to pay your way." He flicked a finger towards me. "So how can you pay your way? What services do you have to offer?"

I hesitated for a moment. Our visit would only be a short one, until we could figure out our next move. I didn't want to be roped into any permanent contract, but if I didn't offer something we would be out on our asses without transport, and with only Beth's Stryker and my empty Airborne.

"I can hunt. I can go on runs. Might be able to fix bikes…"

"He's good with a knife." Wallace added.

"Great!" Negan cried enthusiastically. "We can always do with more knives."

He turned his attention to Beth. "What about you, honey?"

Beth shrugged her shoulders and looked to me, and I gave her a nod, hoping she would come up with something…anything. I could just imagine what _services_ he would like her to do if she had no other skill.

"I was a teacher…before." She dropped her eyes as they began filling with tears, and I tried to hold back my own as I thought about the kids we had lost. I didn't have time to grieve now. We weren't out of danger yet.

"A fucking teacher?" Negan screwed up his face in disgust. "Your sweet fucking ass wasn't a grizzled old teacher."

I shot up from the desk and stared down at the man, chest puffed, hands clenched, ready to challenge him.

He laughed and held his hands up, placating. "It's okay Daddy-oh, just admiring your handy work."

"She's not my fuckin' daughter." I snarled.

He looked back to Beth with a stunned expression. "You don't say."

He raised his hand in the air as if he wanted me to give him a high five, and I continued to glare at him.

Negan shrugged, seemingly un-phased by the rejection. "Either way, we don't need no teacher here, all the woman are responsible for their own kids."

He continued to rape Beth with his eyes, and I continued to stab him repeatedly with mine.

He cleared his throat and shifted his eyes from Beth back to me. "Are you two married?"

"No."

"You should get married, make it official, otherwise she's anyone's game, really."

"She's no-ones _game_."

"No, 'course she's not...not unless she wants to be." His grin was sly and sickening. "You'd be surprised how many women want to be, when given the choice."

"She don't wanna be…" I could feel my anger starting to boil over, while I looked at this piece of shit leering all over Beth. I wanted to knock him in his face, and pound all his teeth to dust, but I was under his roof, and under his rule, and I had to play along until we could figure out what to do next.

I let myself fall back into the chair, trying to shift some of the aggression away. "Wallace mentioned somethin' 'bout a room. We've been travellin' all night, could sure do with some shut-eye."

" 'Course. Where are my manners?" He flicked his finger towards Paul who started sifting through papers on the desk in-front of him, and then produced a ledger and a pen.

"Now as I said, no fucking thing is for free, you'll have to pull your weight around here." He nodded his head towards Beth. "You'll have to pull her weight too...unless you want me to find a way for her to… _pull_ …on her own." He chuckled to himself.

"No. I'll take care of the both of us."

"You'll be on double shifts. That's…" He made an exaggerated display of counting on his fingers, "A fucking lot of hours. Wallace will take you on supply runs with his crew. We've got a few _communities_ we help protect for a fee, and sometimes we need extra manpower to collect that fee. It can get pretty fucking ugly out there, so you gotta be up for some heavy shit."

"Heavy is the shit I'm used to."

"Great. Well let's show you to your fucking room. Get it? _fucking_ room...'cause that's probably what you'll be doin' in there, right?"

I glared and he chuckled. "Why you two always lookin' so serious? Laugh a little."

He turned back to Paul "What do we got?"

"What floor, sir?"

"Hmm." He tapped his chin with his finger thoughtfully. "Let's start them off on the fourth, see how they go."

Paul held up a white card, similar to the one that was used to open the gate to the garage.

"412."

* * *

Wallace was the one who showed us up to our room, chatting all the way about the people of the hotel, where they had come from, what they were like. The routines of the day, shifts of work, who did what and when and where they did it.

As soon as we were on our floor, and well away from Negan I asked him "What the fuck's up with him?" referring to his sleazy leader.

"Little power crazed, I guess."

"He was all but fuckin' Beth with his eyes."

"Beth? You mean 'the kid'?"

I nodded.

"He likes his women." Wallace frowned thoughtfully. "Let me give you a tip. Don't do anything to piss him off. We sort of run on a point system here. It's like a _hotel hierarchy_. If he likes you, he'll give you the top floors, with the best rooms, the best rations, booze, girls. You can shower whenever you like." Wallace smiled to himself as if showering were his favourite part of all the things he had listed. "If he don't like you, you'll find yourself on the bottom floor, on a mattress, a blanket if you're lucky, gruel if you're lucky, and he might let you shower if your smell makes him want to throw up."

"Sounds like a dictator's ass whistlin'."

"It does," He chuckled lightly, "but it works. People don't like being on the bottom, 'specially not the ladies. They'll do desperate and stupid things to please him and get off that bottom floor."

We had stopped in front of our room now, and Wallace handed me the card for the door.

"Why do you even follow that ass-hole?"

"He's a leader. And a leaders a leader."

"A leader is what you wanted." Beth muttered, her eyes still to the worn carpet on the floor.

"That card will get you into your room, into the garden, and into the dining room. You can't leave without Negan's say so, and only a few of us have a card for the garage." He patted against the pocket of his jacket, indicating he had one of those cards.

He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder and started backing away.

"Welcome to the Radisson, Wyatt, 'The kid'. If there is anything I can do for you, just ask." He bowed courteously and turned back to the hall.

* * *

The room wasn't bad. It was probably the best place Beth had the chance to sleep in over the past two years; it was the best place I had been able to sleep in. Ever.

The heavy patterned curtains surrounded a view over the city. And from up high, you couldn't even tell the world had gone to shit. The bed was made with a heavy looking orange blanket, and small dark red pillows. The room had a single sofa chair, a small table, and a desk which was covered in un-lit candles.

Beth placed the crossbow on the desk and then dropped herself down heavily on the edge of the bed, eyes forward and staring at the wall.

I dropped my bag and empty bow to the floor, and tugged the poncho over my head and let it drop too.

Just looking at the bed drew my attention back to how tired I was. I had been on edge for the past few hours, adrenaline still pumping through my blood from the bus crash, and from being on guard around the strangers. Now with everything quiet and feeling relatively safe, I had the chance to feel all the emotions I had been holding back.

They hit me like I had lifted the flood gate on a dam, crashing over me, feeling cold in my chest and hot on my face. My shoulders started shaking, my diaphragm spasming, and I knew I was sobbing; Deep chest heaving, cheek soaking, snot dripping sobs.

All those kids were with us for months, and now they were just gone. Like they had vanished into the air.

All I could see before me was Austin's smart-ass face, all I could hear was his cheeky laugh. I was glad I never looked at his dead body, it wasn't the way I wanted to remember him.

I fell to the floor on my knees before Beth, and dropped my head on to her lap. I wrapped my hands around her waist and sobbed into her thighs, expecting she would gently rub my back and say sweet things and we could comfort each other and it would be okay…eventually.

Beth didn't rub my back gently. She didn't do anything gently. She hit my hard in the rib with something. An elbow, a fist, a sledgehammer, I didn't know what it was, but it winded me, and I slipped off her legs and fell to the floor gasping for air.

"You wanted to leave!" She shrieked.

I rolled onto my ass and stared up at her, both stunned by and understanding of her reaction at the same time.

"You left the school, because you wanted a leader! Because you were too _afraid_ of doin' it on our own!"

"Beth." I crawled to my knees and tried to hold her to comfort her and calm her down, but she shook me off, and stood up, pointing her finger angrily down at me.

"We should've stayed!" She continued shrieking. "They would still be alive! They would still be alive!" She covered her face with her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably into them.

"No they wouldn't." I stood up and tried to grab her by the arms, but she shrugged me away and began pacing back and forth in front of me.

"Those fuckers would have come back and slaughtered us all!" I cried out after her.

"So!" she wailed, stopping before me and throwing her arms in the air. "At least we would've died together! Not the way they did. Their faces…and their bodies…"

Beth paled, covered her mouth, and raced through the open door to the bathroom, and I could hear her retching, spitting and coughing inside.

I went in after her and stood behind her, scooping up the loose strands from her pony that fell in her face.

She slapped my hands away and retched again, before wiping her face with her hand, standing, and seeing herself to the mirror.

She splashed water on her face, and swished a handful in her mouth and glared back at my reflection in the mirror.

"If you didn't take me on that stupid date! If you didn't make us leave! If you didn't stop your stupid bike in the middle of the stupid road!"

She slammed the axe into my chest.

"So you're blamin' me for everythin' that happened?"

"Yes, I am!"

She dragged out the axe and slammed it in there again. Her words hurt more than losing the kids. Probably because what she was saying was true.

"I'm gonna go…take a walk." I muttered as I turned to leave the bathroom. I had to get away from her. I was ready to break something and I didn't want her in the way.

I got to the front door and put my hand on the handle, then her hand was on top of mine swatting it away. She pushed my shoulder so I fell into the door, and then she jumped on me wrapping her hands around my shoulders.

"I'm sorry!" She sobbed into my shoulder. "It's not your fault at all... I'm just...I just …I can't believe they're gone… All of them."

I shushed her and ran my hands over her back and shoulders in circular motions trying to calm her sobs before she hyperventilated, and repeated "I know." Over and over, because I really did know what she was feeling.

I don't think I had ever felt a loss so great. Not when we found Sophia, not when Merle died, not when my mom died, not even when Hershel died. I never wanted those kids to call me daddy, but they still felt like my own. My own kids were gone.

I was being no help stopping her sobbing, as I was sobbing now too. We both stood there by the door, trembling, wet and snotty messes.

And then, unexpectedly, Beth was turning her face to mine.

She mouthed at my lips forcefully, hungrily, passionately. Demonstrating a complete contrast in emotions to what I thought she would be feeling. I didn't even know how to react, so I just parted my lips and let her attack them, licking and sucking and biting, and forcing her tongue in as far as she could reach.

Then her hands were at my waist, tugging at the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head.

Once my arms were free I cupped my hands on her wet cheeks. "Beth what are you doin'?"

"I need you now, Daryl. I need you to make love to me."

"I can't…I don't think we should…this isn't right." It didn't _seem_ right, we had only lost the kids mere hours ago. But why was my cock already starting to respond.

"It is right. It's the only thing that's right, and I feel so wrong. I feel awful, Daryl… Make me feel better."

I hadn't had a proper chance to grieve, my head was still spinning, and my guts were still turning. Every part of me was numb, except for the parts Beth was touching. She rubbed her hands over my guts and chest, and pressed her wet lips into my shoulder, and then all I could think about was taking the pain away.

I tugged the sweater over her head, and threw it to the ground, and then tugged the floral strapless dress down to her hips. Her tits spilled out over the top, and I cupped them, probably to rough, and squeezed them and nipped at them with my teeth as I lifted and leant her back.

She sighed and sobbed and moaned and sobbed and confused the hell out of me. I didn't know what the fuck I was feeling. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I just did it.

I put my mouth back to hers, and returned the forceful kissing, wrestling her tongue with my own. I tugged her dress down to her thighs and ripped out the belt in her pants, in a quick and desperate motion.

My hands went to her shoulders and I shoved her backwards so she landed on the bed behind her. She scrambled backwards on the bed, still weeping, and I grabbed wildly at everything ─ her dress, her jeans, her panties and boots. With one sweep I tugged everything off, and tossed them on to the floor.

I toed out of my own boots, pulled at my belt, and then slid everything to my feet, and kicked it all off while climbing on to the bed.

Beth was laying back, her head on the pillows, her hair half falling out of her pony and all wild and messy. A thick red line was drawn from hip to shoulder over her pale skin. Her hands were clutching at the covers. Her eyes were pink and swollen and her cheeks were wet with tears. She looked awful, and I felt awful. But I gave in to what my body wanted anyway, and crawled over her, spread her legs with my knees, and then slid straight into her. She was as wet between the legs as she was wet on her face. Her body was obviously as confused as mine was.

When the length of me was fully inside of her, I let out a strangled groan, and she wailed and threw her head back. I couldn't tell if it was wailing in pain or pleasure.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, keeping my hips still.

"Yes." She gasped, as she tightened the grip of her legs around my thighs and began rocking her hips against mine.

I wrapped both arms under her, putting one palm on the back of her head, pulling her face into my shoulder, and the other palm in the small of her back, holding her in close to me, so the full length of our bodies were joined and moving together.

I bucked my hips between her thighs, in firm and long strokes, grunting with every thrust, trying to drive out the bad thoughts, and she continued to cry in what seemed like misery and moan in what seemed like pleasure.

Her legs, wrapped around me, were trembling, and her sobbing chest heaved against mine. The skin on my shoulder was saturated by her tears.

My mind told me to stop; that this wasn't doing her any good, but my body wanted me to keep going harder and faster. I tossed my head from side to side telling myself no. I wanted to do the right thing, whatever that was.

With every ounce of strength I had, I threw myself to the side, pulling myself out of her, and landing back on the pillow beside her, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, and stop myself from crying again.

Beth was lying still, other than the shuddering of her chest as she continued to sob.

I put my thumbs to my temples, and rubbed at my head, pounding with confused thoughts.

"Why did you stop?" She turned her head to the side and watched me, her eyes still red and wet.

"Look at you, Beth, you're a mess… I feel like I'm raping you… This isn't helpin' me or you."

"It is." She insisted. She pushed herself up and threw a leg over me in an attempt to straddle me and I grabbed her thigh and pushed her back down.

"No Beth." I held her firmly by the shoulders onto the sheets, my body weight pressed down on her. "Not now. I ain't thinkin' straight, I don't know what I'm doin', and…and we don't have no rubbers, we've already fucked up enough times as it is…"

She stared past me and up at the ceiling. "I would make a terrible mother, wouldn't I?"

"What? That's not what this is…"

"It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine, I couldn't control the bus…I knew they had no belts on and I lost control." She started sobbing uncontrollably again, and I pulled her by her shoulders and rolled her in to me so her head was on my chest.

"No, it weren't your fault neither." I ran my fingers through her tangled mess of blonde.

Beth shook her face against my chest, and continued to sob. "The kids…at the prison…I was supposed to…take care of them…and I left them…and they died…and Judith…I abandoned her…the kids at the school… would've been…better off…if we never found them…" Her voice trailed off into a wail.

"Stop it, Beth!" I gave her shoulders a firm shake, making her seize her wail. "The kids at the school…If we didn't find 'em they would've had long, slow, miserable deaths. Bein' abandoned. Thinkin' the world was full o' selfish ass-holes… At least with us they felt a bit of love before they died."

Beth's sobs started to soften as she listened to my words.

"This world _is_ shit. You and I both know that no kid is gonna last here for long, and that ain't our fault. This is no place to raise no kids, no matter how much love you give 'em, no matter how hard you try to keep 'em safe. Somethin's always gonna happen to 'em, and we can't stop that."

Beth's sobs started to intensify again, and she clawed at my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. Her cries sounded almost desperate, like there was something more there than just grief. My own grief was suddenly taken over by concern for her. Strong as she was, something like this could destroy her.

I shushed her, and rocked her back and forth in my arms, while she cried into my chest, wondering if she would ever be the same again.

* * *

I was absolutely exhausted. I felt like I was just floating around on nothingness, with my head above the clouds and my body buried under the ground. I wasn't even sure how I managed to dress myself, or how I made it downstairs.

"You right there, Wyatt?" A familiar voice broke through my daze.

I turned to see the aging yet muscular frame of Wallace approaching me. He stood before me and put a hand to my shoulder, stopping the room from spinning a little.

"You look like shit, boy. Thought you were getting some rest?"

"Can't sleep." I mumbled.

"Let's see if we can help you with that." He tugged me along beside him, walking across the foyer and towards closed double doors with 'Members Lounge' written overhead. He swiped his card on the door, and pushed it open for me to enter.

It was a real live mother fucking lounge, with several sofas, high tables and a small stage, surrounded by a glimmering silver tinsel curtain. The mirrored cabinet behind the bar was lined with bottles of alcohol, most were empty but some were almost full. Behind the bar a man in an apron was wiping out glasses and stacking them on the shelves. It was like a scene straight out of Cheers.

"What the fuck? It's like you guys are livin' at the holiday inn."

"Nah, holiday inn is down the road." Wallace gave his familiar chuckle, and pushed me towards a stool by the bar. "Negan likes his comforts, and with a group this size, we have the manpower to hold on to a bit of comfort."

I swept my arm across the room.

"You've got a bar. An actual fucking bar." I pointed to the man behind the bar. "And an actual fucking bar tender."

"And in the pm, we've got actual dancers." He nodded towards the small stage; a pole in the centre looking like it was recently welded on.

"Dancers." I repeated, unsurprised. Negan seemed like he would like them.

"Yeah, best to keep 'The Kid' away from here."

The bar tender placed two whiskey glasses in front of us and tipped a finger of liquor in each. Wallace downed it quickly and I eyed over mine cautiously.

"C'mon Wyatt, why would I save your ass just to poison you?" Wallace chuckled again.

I downed the liquor. Cheap and nasty whiskey, but whiskey all the same. My guts grew warm as it settled, and I felt the slightest sense of calm.

"So what _is_ your real name?" Wallace asked as he flicked a finger towards the bar tender asking for more whiskey.

"Wyatt." I grunted.

"Well what are the chances?" He faked astonishment.

"My real name is William, but everyone calls me Wallace 'cause I used to have red hair." He ran his fingers through his greying mess of long hair. "Apparently that's a wee bit scootish."

He chuckled at his own awful accent.

"Most people here call me Wally though. Seems like it fits an old man like me." Wallace downed his second glass of whiskey and I did the same.

"So what's eating you, Wyatt?"

I shifted uncomfortably in the seat, not really wanting to pour my heart out to a stranger but feeling oddly safe to do so.

"We had some little'uns with us..."

I didn't need to continue; Wallace grimaced and nodded his head as if he knew what I was going to say.

"I lost my granddaughter right back at the beginning." He stared sullenly into his empty glass. "This big mass of gnashers came through our camp, I was supposed to be watching her, my son asked me to, but I got distracted by all the hacking and slashing. When I turned she was gone. Never found her remains. She just disappeared. We looked for her for a long time. Weeks. Eventually we just gave up. I know that she's dead, a kid can't survive out there on their own, but I just like to think of her as 'gone'. Think it's easier."

I nodded in agreement, thinking that was why I never looked for Austin. It was easier to believe he was just gone if I never saw him dead with my own eyes.

"My son and daughter-in-law hated me." Wallace continued. "I hated myself. I couldn't look myself in the mirror or them in the eye. They wanted me gone, but I didn't leave them, because they were all I had left. I followed them halfway across the state, then one day I woke up and they were just gone too."

"Dead?"

"Nah. They left my ass." He chuckled again, but this time without humour. "That was when I met Negan. I was curled up in ball in the middle of the road, rocking and weeping like a...well like a man who had lost his child."

My eyes left his face and trailed down over his neck and exposed chest to the tattoos, one of them a swastika. I found it hard to imagine a man sporting those markings weeping in the middle of the road.

"I know, big tough guy like me, crying." He huffed humourlessly. "It was all for show. Did that dumb shit when I was a kid. I never really believed that 'white power' bullshit, but it made people leave me alone, and made me look tougher than I really was. Think that's the only reason Negan wanted me to tag along. Fooled him into believing I was some tough guy."

He sighed and gently tossed his head from side to side.

"I was a bit of hard ass, nasty shit-head when I was younger though, before I met my wife. She sure sorted my ass out." He smiled as if at the memory of his dead wife. "You take good care of 'The Kid'. She's more valuable than you know."

I lowered my eyes to the empty glass and nodded my head in agreement.

"So, you lose a son or daughter?"

"Both."

"Both? You two don't look old enough to have two kids…well 'The Kid' don't…"

"They were adopted."

"But it hurts the same don't it?"

I nodded.

He gave me a light chip on the shoulder so that I looked up at his dark, wrinkled, wise face.

"Let me tell you somethin'. In this place the tough guy routine is necessary. But you don't have to do that shit in front of me. If you wanna cry, you go right ahead and cry, you have good reason to."

I wasn't going to cry in front of this stranger. I wasn't going to drop my guard and show my weakness. But with the whiskey in my guts and the somehow comforting smile on his lips I let myself frown at memories from the past.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The comfort sex. It's a weird one, but it does happen. Tried to make it as realistic as possible. (but, you know, this is supposed to be a smutty fic.)
> 
> Wyatt and 'The kid' are characters from a 60s movie called 'Easy rider'. Before both Beth's and Daryl's time.


	3. Settled

 

There were signs of life out there. I could see them. But some part of me didn't want to believe they were there.

The lights of Washington DC twinkled like stars that had fallen to the Earth. It could have meant people were still living in DC. It could mean there was a chance my sister, and Judith and everyone else were there. But after all that had happened, it seemed so hard to focus on the light when there was so much darkness surrounding it.

I heard the sharp and now familiar clicking of the door lock, and then the door creak open. I didn't bother turning, I could tell by the shuffling of the footsteps on the carpet it was Daryl. Something clunked and scraped. The smell of pork in the air told me it was my dinner plate Daryl was bringing to me like he had the past two nights.

I felt his breath hot and moist against my neck as he came up behind me where I sat on the ledge of the hotel window, looking out at the lights of DC. His lips brushed against my ear and then moved upwards skimming over my hair and landing on the top of my head.

"There's still hope." He murmured into my hair. I wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

I touched my chin to my shoulder and gave it a shrug. "There're less lights than last night, I think." A pessimistic reply was all I could manage.

Daryl stepped away from me, gripped the collar of his dirty flannel shirt and began tugging it over his head, groaning as he flexed his neck and shoulder muscles.

I looked to the plate of pork, beans and potato on the table. It had been tasting like real pork, and not mystery meat like I was given at Terminus, but still I wondered where it came from. I had not seen pigs down in the hotel garden.

I eyed over Daryl's bow that lay on the table in close proximity to my food, his quiver refilled with arrows, some which looked like they still needed to be cleaned of blood and gore. It didn't help with my already barely-existent appetite.

He had been out all day today, and all day yesterday, scavenging through every home, shop and car they came across, as instructed by Negan. Daryl insisted it was dangerous work that he didn't want me involved in. Most of the people here worked in one of three shifts, but Daryl had chosen to work two to make sure we were both fed and given access to a proper bed.

I left my place by the window and moved behind him, ran my fingers over the taut and bulging skin of his neck and began kneaded my fingers into the knots in his muscles.

"We drove 'round most the beltway. Walkers as far as the eyes can see..." He groaned as I hit a particularly hard spot, and began pressing it with my thumb. "I'm thinkin' maybe they're goin' in by the river. We know there're people livin' in there 'cause of the lights, and with the amount of walkers 'round the place, they gotta be servin' a buffet."

"Maybe the lights are on timers." I muttered listlessly.

"Nah, there's gotta be people there. The government was there. They prob'ly got some underground bunker, secret tunnel shit…Eugene was talkin' to 'em, he might've got 'em in. We just gotta…"

"Daryl." I interrupted. "Were not gonna find 'em. I think we just gotta accept they're gone."

Daryl turned his face toward me, his brow slightly furrowed. "What ever happened to havin' a little faith?"

"I lost what little faith I had in that bus."

Daryl groaned again, I wasn't sure if it was from pain thinking about the kids, or pleasure as I pressed my fingers deeper into his muscle tissue.

I turned away from him and walked towards my plate of food on the small table, and trailed my finger around the rim. "I want to leave the room tomorrow."

Daryl clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together.

I picked up the magazine I had left on the table after reading it for the fourteenth time, and tossed it onto the foot of the bed next to him. "There're only so many times I can read about Demi and Ashton's marriage breakdown and Winehouse's overdose."

Daryl sighed and began fiddling with the buckle on his belt, lips still pressed in a firm line.

"I've been locked in this room for three days. I'm goin' a bit crazy here. Got nothin' to do but think all day." I choked back the sob that I could feel brewing in my chest. "Think about the kids."

Seeming to sense my misery, Daryl grabbed me around the upper arm and tugged me into his chest, and began rubbing his hands along my bare shoulders.

"I need to do somethin'." I muttered into his chest.

"There's nothin' for you to do out there, 'cept go on runs…And you just ain't cut out for that kinda work, Beth…"

"But I need to talk to people, Daryl. You've been so concerned with keepin' me safe, you don't think that I might need some kinda social interaction to stay sane? You're gone for sixteen hours a day."

I turned my face up so I could catch a look of his eyes. "You've been out there with these people for long enough. You must have some idea if they can be trusted."

Daryl gave his head a gentle shake. "I ain't talked to many but Wally."

"You trust him, right?"

"As much as I can be trustin' someone I've known for three days."

I pulled my head away from his shoulder so I could better examine his face. It still looked twisted with concern.

"It's Negan I don't trust." He went on. "The guy spends most of his day upstairs with his girls, and when he's not fuckin' 'em, he's talkin' 'bout fuckin' 'em."

"Do you think he's dangerous?"

Daryl hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Lucille. That ain't another one of his girls. He carries 'round a baseball bat, wrapped in barbed wire. Takes it everywhere and talks to it like it's a woman. Won't even surprise me none if he's tried fuckin' the thing. He's hornier than a double dicked goat and as nutty as squirrel shit."

"Seems all leaders go a little nuts. 'Member what Rick was like after the farm, and then after he lost Lori? Maybe you gotta be nuts, you know, to cope."

He scoffed, "And you wondered why I didn't wanna do it."

I tried to smile at his attempt at humour, but when I thought of him being the one in charge I thought of the school, so I frowned instead, looking to my bare feet on the floor.

He tucked a finger under my chin and drew my face upwards, his blue eyes meeting mine.

"You can leave the room, but stay with the women and kids. And don't go near the lounge."

"What's in the lounge?"

Daryl pressed his lips together as if in thought and gently tossed his head. "Never you mind, I just don't want you anywhere near the place, got it?"

I nodded my head, knowing if Daryl didn't want me near there, then he had good reasons.

* * *

Daryl left the room in the early hours of the morning, when the room was still dim. From my position on the bed, I stared out the window waiting for the sun to fill the room, and when the room glowed with morning light, I slipped out of bed and into the clothes I had been wearing for the last three days, the crossbow being the only thing I had saved from the bus. The _only_ thing I had saved.

I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water and eyed over the toilet, wondering if I could go a morning without using it. I still felt queasy. I was unsure if it was from the disturbing dreams I had been having every night or from something else, but either way I tried to hide it from Daryl, I didn't want him to worry about me anymore than he already was.

When I was confident I had control over my churning stomach, I left the bathroom to find that Daryl had left the swipe card on the table along with a little note that said 'I love you' and then 'Take your knife'.

…

Down in the hotel foyer, kids dressed in shorts and tees and with big smiles on their faces were running around kicking at a ball. Their mothers sat nearby huddled together and gossiping as if they were in a school yard at pick up time. After breakfast this is where I told Daryl I would stay, but looking at the kids happy faces as they spun and turned and lunged, it did nothing but tear at my heart and make me pine for my lost little ones. I would rather stay up in the hotel room than spend the day with kids.

The dining room was filled with sunlight that came through the large ceiling to floor windows looking out to the overgrown gardens. The collections of tables and chairs in the room were empty, but the people who wound their way through, with cutlery and crockery in their arms, made me think it had recently been full, or would be soon. The bus boys, as they seemed to be, were dressed in aprons and caps, and rushed around as if they were under the thumb of a strict head chef. There was food placed out in a servery with a selection of what looked like canned fruit, scrambled eggs and pork. It almost felt as if I was in a real functioning hotel.

I ate by myself and then took my plate to the kitchen offering to help with the dishes as something to keep me occupied, but the kitchen hands just looked disgusted by my offer, stating they weren't about to lose their hard-earned points.

I left the dining room and followed the signs through the halls and down a back flight of stairs to the laundry, hoping I might be able to find something other than a smelly and blood-stained sweater to wear.

The laundry was part of the basement floor, attached to the parking garage. It had two stairwells, a main one that connected it to the upper six floors, and another that connected only to the ground floor. Across from the entry to the stairwell were double glass doors that also led out to the parking garage.

The laundry room was large enough to house over a hundred bodies and was lit by a single fluorescent light that flickered and buzzed. The shadowed cinder block walls were lined with unused washers and driers, covered in dust and lint. There were several large stainless steel tables in the centre, piles of folded washing placed on top, and women and one man filled the room scrubbing dirty clothes against washboards while they jabbered and gossiped.

I walked over to the nearest woman, a blonde who didn't look much older than me, she smiled up at me as I approached, her freckled nose crinkling as her lips rose.

"Hi I'm Mandy." She offered her hand before I got the chance to offer mine.

"Beth." I took her hand and shook it.

"Knew it wasn't 'The Kid'." She smiled to herself and went back to folding her clothing.

"You knew about me?"

She nodded. "Uhuh, don't really get too many pretty girls through here. There aren't too many _girls_ who make it, and the ones that do, aren't pretty. "

I lowered my eyes, thinking how much compliments were wasted on me in my current condition.

"Oh don't be shy, girl, you'll have it better than most of the others here."

Most of the women I had seen around here had been covered in scars, and looked as if they had lived tougher lives than even Daryl. But Mandy was still very attractive. She had green eyes that were pressed together at the sides that gave her a certain sultry look. Her lips were pouty and full. Her skin was flawless except for a small scar on her eyebrow. She had a slight frame like mine, but she was much bigger in the bust area. I might have been jealous of her appearance, but her eyes had a sadness that seemed even deeper than my own, and it made me wonder why it was that pretty girls had it better than the others.

I cleared my throat trying to distract from the fact I had been staring at her. "I was hoping maybe there were some clothes around that no-one was usin'. I came in what I'm wearing, been in them for four days now."

Mandy eyed up my stained sweater and jeans. "I could definitely find you something better."

She began searching through her pile of folded clothes and tossed an arrangement of coloured fabric over to me.

"Are they yours?" I asked as I lifted a pale blue tee.

"Yeah, but don't worry I can always ask for more."

She said it so casually, as if it were easy just to stroll over to the department store and pick out a fresh outfit.

"I'll try to find you some more jeans or something too. Bring them to your room. What room are you in?"

"Four-twelve"

"Oh, you're right below me." She turned her eyes to the ceiling, "well after today you will be."

"What's happening today?"

"I'm getting married."

"Married? Like with a real wedding?"

"Well…there'll be a wedding…"

"That's…wonderful. I guess."

"I don't know about wonderful, but it'll certainly be better than how things were."

"How were things?"

"I just always had to be watchin' my back. Struggling to earn my points, trying to claw my way up to the top..." She trailed off, her face falling in sadness.

"What do you think of this dress?" She held up an electric blue mini dress, with a dozen straps crossed over for the sleeves and sequins around the hemline.

"It's beautiful, but what's the occasion?"

"My wedding, silly"

"Oh."

"Negan doesn't care much for gowns of white satin and tulle."

"Negan." I cocked a brow in mild surprise. "Does he control what women wear on their wedding days too?"

"Yes. When he's the one getting married to 'em."

My brows press together in confusion. "But doesn't he already have a wife?"

"He has two. I'll be number three."

"Oh." Was all I could reply. I didn't know what a man could possibly do with that many women. Sometimes Daryl seemed to struggle with just me.

I refolded the clothes in front of me, trying to avoid her seeing my eyes, which would have been passing judgement.

"It's easier." Mandy said with a shrug. "His wives sit around all day in the penthouse, living as if none of this shit ever happened, and instead of having to please twenty men a day, they only have one."

I chewed on my lip nervously, wondering if she really had to please twenty men a day, or if she was exaggerating to prove a point.

"If you don't have any other skills, and you don't have a man to keep you, you have to make your way using what you have at your disposal." She leaned forward on the table so she could catch my eye. "Some women have what it takes to get out there and kill to survive. Some women find it easier to use what's between their legs to keep them alive. I'm one of the latter."

I wondered which category I fell into.

* * *

I stared at the rusted tubes of metal exposed between the cracked tiles, the spot where the shower handles should have been. It made me think of the school, where we could have showers whenever we wished, and thinking of the school made me think of the kids.

Pouting, I turned away from the shower and to the tiny basin, which was filled with ice cold water. I took a fresh face cloth I had borrowed from the laundry earlier that day, and began rubbing it over my face, scrubbing away the sweat from the day. Although the weather wasn't too warm, there was no air in the hotel, and it got quite stale and stuffy, especially up in our room.

I rubbed the cloth against a soggy piece of soap stuck to the basin ledge, and then ran it under my arm, over my shoulder and down over the rest of my body. We were permitted one shower a week on levels two to four, but only using the downstairs shower by the algae filled swimming pool. As much as I missed hot water pelleting against my skin, I would rather bath in a hand basin than be down there, exposed, with seemingly sex crazed strangers.

I heard the familiar click and clunk of the door unlocking, and grabbing a towel to wrap around my body I went to the door to greet Daryl.

"You're back early…" I choked on my words and doubled over coughing trying to loosen them from my throat so I could breathe again. It wasn't Daryl at all, but Negan.

He was dressed in a loose satin gown, his hairy chest exposed. His dark and intimidating eyes travelled over my uncovered flesh. The candle light from the room flickered over his sick and twisted grin making him look more evil than I thought he possibly could be. He was holding a pile of folded clothing in one hand and the bat Daryl had told me about in the other.

My eyes first went to the crossbow on the table. Unloaded. It would take me far too long to load it now. I then looked to my boots by the door. In one quick lunge I could grab my knife out, if he didn't grab me first.

He casually strolled in and kicked the door shut behind him placing the bat against it, dumped the clothing on to the desk, and then brushed off his hands as if he had been holding cobweb covered chopped logs.

"You don't mind if Lucille comes in, do you?" He pointed to the bat at the door. It looked like it could do a lot of damage with that wire on it. I couldn't tell if the brown markings on it were from rust or blood.

"Mandy said you needed clothes." He said in a cheerful, and surprisingly unthreatening tone, while nodding to the clothes on the table.

Un-convinced, I gripped the towel tighter to my chest and tried to calculate how someone of my size could manoeuvre about and overpower someone of his size.

"You don't need to look so fucking terrified. I'm not going to hurt you. I don't do rape. Every woman I touch asks me for it… No they fucking _beg_ me for it." He chuckled to himself.

I cleared my tight throat. "You have a key to our room?"

He held up a white card, identical to the one Daryl had left for me. "I have a key to this whole fucking building. I _am_ the boss."

A cold shiver ran down my back as I realised Negan could potentially walk into this room anytime he pleased.

Demonstrating his ownership, he casually strolled across the room and threw himself down on the bed, laying on his side seduction style, his bare leg bent towards me.

His eyes scanned over the room. "Do you like your accommodations?"

I nodded. "s'okay." I wasn't sure if I should be gracious and thank him for his hospitality. It was hard to show appreciation when I wasn't even sure if I was safe.

He glanced up to the ceiling. "Much better on the top floor. Nice view. Nice food. Nice clothes. Showers whenever you like. You'll need a lot of those from all the fucking we'd be doin'…'course you would need to be one of my girls first." He patted the bed next to where he was laying. "Why don't you take a seat?"

I backed my way towards the door and to my boots. "Daryl will be back soon."

"Daryl? Is that his name? He won't be back until ten. So come over here, and let me keep you busy while you're waiting."

"No." I said firmly, my foot now touching my boot. I could see my knife beside my sock inside.

He rolled his eyes. "You don't know what you're missing." He slid off the bed and to his feet, and stretched casually, his robe loosening and exposing his flaccid manhood.

He strolled back towards the door, not bothering to fix his robe, and collected his bat.

Wary of his close proximity I ducked down, grabbed the knife, popped it open and pointed it towards him.

He smiled at the blade.

"Told you I won't touch you unless you ask me." He pulled the door open. "And you _will_ ask me." He winked at me, and then strolled out the door and down the hall, his robe flying behind him.

I slammed the door shut and propped the desk chair under the handle then went straight back into the bathroom to splash cold water over my skin, inflamed from both rage and embarrassment.

What kind of man strolls into a taken girl's room and makes a move on her, when he was married only hours earlier?

A man like Negan.

Once I was done washing up, I went back out to examine the clothes Mandy had given me. A pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, and a sweater, all clean and bright and new looking. There were also two sets of brightly coloured lace and satin underwear. With accessories. Stockings and those things you use to hold them up; suspenders I think they are called. I didn't know why Mandy would think I needed those, but I _was_ in desperate need of a bra and underpants. I hadn't been wearing a bra the day we came here, and my one pair of underpants were still in a soaking wet puddle in the bathroom.

I picked up the fuchsia coloured bra and pressed it over my breasts. It seemed to be the right size; Mandy must have made a good guess. I slipped it on to see how it felt, and then slipped on the matching underpants and went back into the bathroom to examine myself in the mirror.

They looked really nice, and really sexy. It sent an uncomfortable squirming feeling through my body thinking of sex and what I had tried to make Daryl do the first day we had got here. I had wanted something to take my mind of the pain, even though it seemed wrong. My hormones had been so all over the place; I didn't even know what was right anymore.

I ran my fingers through my hair, and thought about asking Daryl to find me a proper brush next time he went out, and then blew out the candle in the bathroom and went back into the bedroom to read one of the new outdated magazines I had collected that day.

* * *

I must have dozed off while waiting for Daryl to get back. The gentle tapping on the door startled me awake.

I checked that it was Daryl in the peephole and then moved the chair and opened the door, standing behind it so I couldn't be seen, in my almost nude state, from the hallway.

Daryl strolled in, dumped everything down on the floor and then fell to the bed so he could pull his boots off, and then began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Whoa!" He cried when he caught sight of me.

Instinctively I covered myself up.

"Where'd you get all that?"

"One of the girls gave it to me. Mandy."

Daryl nodded and then shouldered out of his flannel shirt and vest and let it fall onto the bed, keeping his eyes on me.

"You made a friend?"

I shrugged. "Not really a friend, but she was nice to me… She married Negan today."

"Today?" His eye squinted as his lip curled. "There was a weddin'…today?"

"If you could call it a wedding." I reached my fingers up my back so I could undo the clasp on the bra. "It involved Mandy standing in the foyer in front of a man dressed in black leather and covered in tattoos that I assumed was supposed to be a minister." I tugged at the strap. The clasp was new and stiff.

"Negan came out from the stairwell carrying Lucille, strolled straight over to Mandy, planted a soppy kiss on her lips and said 'Get the fuck on with it.' to the minister. The minister went on and on about loyalty and trust and the unbreakable union of marriage and then Negan interrupted telling him to skip to the next part. The minister said that line about speaking now if you have any objections or forever hold your peace, and of course everyone was silent. They would have to be the way Negan started swinging the bat through the air as if he would clobber anyone who spoke up." I demonstrated the swing for him, doing a full turn with my hips and flexing my foot behind me. "Then he adds 'And if anyone touches my wife, I'm gonna melt their face off.' And laughed like a maniac. I thought he was kiddin', but the looks of everyone else; they were terrified."

Daryl scoffed to himself and stood to loosen his belt. "Wouldn't surprise me none if that were literal."

I nodded my head in agreement, certain it was meant literally too.

"So the minister finished up and Negan kisses her, like really kisses her, as if they were going to do it right there in the middle of the foyer. Then he stops and tells everyone he's going upstairs to fuck the shit out of his wife, and then he's going to fuck the shit out of his other wives too."

Daryl screwed his face up in disgust, mirroring my own facial expression.

"And Mandy…she actually looked happy about it."

Daryl dropped his jeans to the floor and kicked them off so he was now standing before me naked. "The girls that come on runs with me. I hear 'em talkin'. They fantasize about bein' one of his wives, or even just one of his girls."

Daryl strolled into the darkened bathroom and began washing his face and running water through his greasy hair. I followed and stood behind him in the doorway.

"He told me I would ask to be with him one day too."

Daryl stopped what he was doing and glared at me in the reflection of the mirror.

"He talked to you?"

"Yeah…actually he came into this room he's got a…" Daryl shoved past me, grabbed the chair and propped it under the door just as I had. Then he turned back to me gripping my jaw with his hands and began examining me, turning my neck and lifting my arms as if he was looking for some kind of rash.

"He touch you?"

"No. Just creeped me out."

He wrapped his arms around me. "The sooner I got some kinda idea on where to go from here, the better."

I doubted there was any place left that was better than this, horny and crazy leader or not.

Not wanting him to see my doubtful face, I turned around in his grip and gathered my hair of my neck.

"Can you undo me? The clasp is real tough."

Daryl's fingers pressed into my back and he began tugging at the clasp.

"Find anythin' today?" I asked while turning my chin over my shoulder so I could look at him furrowing his brow in concentration.

Daryl shook his head. "Spent the whole day siphoning gas from cars on the highway." The bra finally sprung free and Daryl moved his hands to my front and let it slide down over my waist and then dropped it to the floor. "S'posed to be other camps out there. If I can get out to 'em, I'm hopin' they'll know somethin'."

I touched his hand that was now resting on my elbow, his arms crossed over my breasts, his warm chest pressed into my back. "Don't hope too hard." I muttered.

"You not feelin' better?" His warm breath brushed against the nape of my neck as he spoke, and was followed with a gentle kiss.

"Just don't want to fool myself...again."

He rubbed his hands firmly up and down my arms, his biceps flexing by my shoulders, and kissed my neck. I tilted my head to the side to allow him to move across my neck and to my ear, enjoying the tickling sensation that was distracting me from my low mood.

I felt him stir against my backside, and the thought of him hard sent heat twisting through my chest, down through my hips, and then pulsating between my legs.

"I won't cry." I whispered, both to myself and to him.

"Hmmm?" He mumbled.

We hadn't tried being intimate since the first day we had come here. I had been such a mess I couldn't even focus on the distraction the pleasure was supposed to provide.

"I won't cry." I said a little louder.

He was silent and still for a moment before he tipped his head over my shoulder so he could look into my eyes.

"My dicks only movin 'cause a pretty, half-naked girl asked me to take her bra off, I weren't tryin' nothin'."

I shrugged. "If you did. I think I would be okay."

He gave a long sigh, the feel of his breath against my neck making my hair stand on end, and then he went back to placing single kisses along my neck and shoulder.

"It wasn't a bad idea. It was just too soon. Way too soon."

He nodded his head against mine. "Too soon."

I could now feel him growing even harder against me, his kisses became firmer, his hands travelled downwards, slipping off my elbows and falling to my waist.

"I wouldn't mind feelin'…" My voice caught in my throat and grew tight and raspy as his hands swept back and forth across my belly. My skin left tingling where he touched. "… somethin' other than pain."

"Me too." He murmured in agreement.

"So we can try it, right?"

He didn't answer with words, but one hand moved to my breast, and the other moved down to the band of my underpants, a single finger skimming under the elastic.

My body shuddered and my skin rippled with gooseflesh, as the fluttering intensified between my legs, my grief now taking a backseat to desire.

Daryl tugged my back firmly against his chest and brushed his chin against my jaw, his whiskers scratching against my sensitive skin.

With heavy and hot breath he continued to place wet kisses over my neck and shoulder and back, as his fingers tugged at my underpants, and slipped them down to below my hips, where he let them fall down my legs and to the floor.

Now with my backside fully exposed, he pressed his hard length into my flesh, leaving my tail bone feeling bruised.

His fingers danced from my hip, along my back and over my shoulder and then along my neck and tangled in my hair. He gently turned my head, so that our lips could meet, and then his hot, cigarette tasting tongue was filling my mouth.

Releasing my head now that it was in the position he wanted it in, his hand slid straight back down over my belly and then his fingers made their way down towards my throbbing sensitive spot, just below my mound of hair.

He pressed his forefinger inwards and with a firm and steady pressure began rubbing in a circular motion. I sighed into his mouth and tilted my hips forward so his fingers could slowly slip further down, gliding through my wetness and then delving into my opening.

My hips shifted forward and backward instinctively as his fingers worked deep inside of me. Somehow he always knew just the spot to touch to send the buzzing, hot, jolting sensation through every part of me.

After a few moments of his firm manoeuvring, the tremors and convulsions took place of the jolting and I felt myself clenching rhythmically against his fingers, and a throaty moan passed my lips.

He groaned in response, and his lips left mine so that he could tip me forward slightly and replace his fingers with his full, hot, hard length. I gasped deeply, my muscles stretching and clenching around him, as he slid into me, stopping when his hips pressed firmly into my backside and with him fully inside.

He held me by my jaw and pulled me backwards until his mouth found mine once again, and our tongues fought and pressed and danced together as he continued to drive upwards into me in slow and controlled motions. He massaged one hand into my breast, and with the other he went back down to working on my pulsating sweet spot above the place he was thrusting into.

Him deep inside me, his warm chest behind me, his strong arms wrapped around me, his expert fingers touching my front and his tongue delving into my mouth; it was a complete sensory overload that had my head spinning, my skin tingling and my legs trembling beneath me.

I collapsed in Daryl's arms as the second wave took hold of me, sending convulsions through every part of my body.

Supporting my limp weight with one strong arm, bulging with muscle, he shuffled me forward so my shaking knees were resting on the bed, and then continued to drive into me with long and deliberate strokes.

The third time I cried out for him, he let out a desperate groan to meet mine, and then suddenly and unexpectedly, pulled himself out and away from me.

Thinking he was already done, I let my limp limbs fall, and collapsed onto the bed, my face buried in the soft bed covers. I attempted to catch my breath, and regain some kind of control over my body, before I realised there was no point. I heard the crinkling of foil, and I turned my head to see him rolling a condom over his glistening, wet length.

He took one long stride across the room, straddled over my legs, and then with one arm, gripped me around the waist and flipped me on to my back. He stepped between my legs and then crawled forward, pushing his hips between my thighs, his end finding my throbbing wet opening and slipping into me once more.

His heavy blue eyes meet my gaze for the first time since we had started our love making session, and the emotions I saw there, some kind of mixture of pain, and fear and desire, made my heart thrum in empathy.

He slid his arms under my shoulders and tugged me into his chest, breaking away from my gaze and burying his head into my neck. He continued to drive into me, while groaning and panting and making other desperate sounds into my ear, that were mimicked in a higher and softer register by my own voice.

I had told him I wouldn't cry, and I didn't want to, but with him pressed so firmly against me, and our bodies joined and moving together as one, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and completeness. I had no control over the tears that were spilling out.

With simultaneous motion, our hips rolled and bucked and tipped together, our moans came out in harmonised unity. Our bodies were so in sync, that we both groaned and convulsed and came at the same time.

When the wave of pleasure was over we let our exhausted limbs fall to the side, with his heavy body still pressing down on mine, and enveloping me in warmth and security.

When our breathing had regulated, and our hearts were beating normally, Daryl turned his face to mine, and placed a gentle kiss on to my cheek, touching his lips to my tears.

"You said you wouldn't cry." He murmured against my cheek.

I sighed. "They're not for grief. I think they're for relief."

He frowned a little. "You feelin' better?"

"A little better." I replied in a whisper, "a little more myself."

Losing the kids had shattered my heart and had been a blow to everything I had faith in. But knowing that Daryl and I still had each other , made me feel as if I had the strength to carry on, and have hope for happiness again.

"We'll find the others." I said in a voice a little stronger. "And if we don't, we still have each other."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapters aren't coming along as quickly as I had hoped. Kids are on holidays and I can't get a moment to think! Hoping to have two more at least out before next weekend.
> 
> The next 4 chapters are going to be pretty heavy, but Negan wasn't lying about the rape thing, so you don't need to worry about that...


	4. Hangman's Noose

 

Beth had slept naked beside me every night since we had come here. She had little choice, seeing as she only had the jeans, sweater, dress and panties she had come in.

Anything other than intimate cuddling had never crossed my mind, as every night she had slept tucked under my arm, sobbing herself to sleep against my chest.

Last night she had gone to sleep with a smile on her lips, her steady and relaxed breath puffing through the hair on my chest, her leg wrapped over my hip and her hand cupped over my bicep.

I still wasn't thinking about anything but intimate cuddling, but I got a kick out of how satin-like her skin felt under my hardened fingers. It was like a salve for all of my lifetime of wounds.

I trailed my fingers across her collarbones, over her smooth rounded shoulder, over the ripples of flesh on her ribs, down to the skin that drew taut over her jutting hip, then down further to between her legs, my fingers resting tangled in her soft curls.

She flinched and pulled her knees together. "Don't." She whispered.

"I wasn't." I insisted. "I'm just touchin' you. I like the way you feel." I moved forward to kiss her forehead, but she squirmed away from me.

"Just don't. I…have to go to the bathroom." She kicked back the blankets and flew across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, making the boat painting nearby on the wall quiver.

"That bad, hey?" I called out after her.

All I heard was a groan in reply.

I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled over to the bathroom door to press my ear up to it. It sounded like she was sobbing again.

After the way she was last night I thought she had moved past the uncontrollable sobbing stage. Not that I expected her to get over the kids within a week, it just seemed whenever I thought she was improving, she would start falling backwards again.

"You okay?" I called through the door, testing the handle to find it was locked.

"I'm fine!" She snapped back, sounding more angry than miserable. "Don't come in!"

I scanned over the room trying to think of some way I could avoid going out today so I could stay with her, but Carson had made it clear that I needed to do both shifts, every day, if both Beth and I wanted to eat.

Resolved there was nothing I could do that wouldn't later be used against me by Negan, I called back through the door. "I gotta go soon Beth."

"So go!"

"…can I 'least see you're okay?"

I heard an impatient sigh travel through the painted timber. "I told you I'm okay, so I'm okay."

I tried one more attempt at seeing her before I left, "Can I use the bathroom?"

"Use the one downstairs!"

"…okay. You gonna be 'right?"

"Just go, Daryl!"

I turned back to my pile of leather and denim on the floor and tugged my gear on, muttering under my breath about the moodiness of women.

Stalling a little longer I checked and re-checked my Busse and Airborne and then wary of missing my shift I headed to the door.

"I'm goin' now." I called back toward the bathroom, my hand resting on the handle to the entry door.

After a moment of silence I sighed in defeat and tugged down on the handle.

"I love you." I heard Beth call as I stepped out.

I smirked, "I love you too."

* * *

"What did one eye say to the other?"

I let out a long loud groan, knowing another one of Wally's terrible jokes was coming.

"Just between you and me, something smells." He chuckled to himself, his barrel chest rumbling and thick shoulders shaking.

"That's god awful." I tried to resist the smile that was tugging at my lips. He didn't need encouragement.

"So is the smell." He nodded towards the mass of chained and impaled walkers brushing against the line of concrete barriers.

Awful didn't even begin to describe the smell. Now that it was past noon, the sun baked stench was at its peak. The ones closer to the concrete barricades smelt the least, merely dry skin dangling off bones. The ones further out were fresher, with the smell of blood and flesh and entrails warming and evaporating into the air. I was glad for the scent of charred tobacco from my cigarette that masked at least some of the smell.

The stench kept everyone inside the hotel, except for those who had to go on runs, or man the fence line, as we were. These walkers, unlike Michonne's pets, still had their teeth and arms, so they were more of a threat to the living than a deterrent to other walkers, and something about that made me think they were about keeping people in just as much as keeping people out.

"My granddaughter liked my jokes." Wally broke through my thoughts, while examining a particularly active walker that was grasping towards us as we strolled past.

"Well I ain't a seven year old girl."

"No, you aren't." He chuckled weakly, with sadness in his eyes. "Truth is I don't think she liked them either, think she was just humouring her old grandpa."

I took a drag on my cigarette and continued walking, keeping my eyes on the crowd of walkers, leaving him to his moment of melancholy memory.

"She was my way of making up for being the asshole father to my son that I was." He finally spoke up, as he stopped to examine another male walker who was pulling against his chains trying to reach us, jaws snapping against the open air. "I wish I could've had the chance to make it up to him though. I wish he never left me. Family is everything, you know?" He turned to look at me. "You have other family out there, besides 'The kid'?"

My heart clenched at the thought of everyone I had lost, and everyone I wanted to get back to.

"Yep." I muttered. "Had a brother. He died almost a year ago now."

"Gnasher get 'im?"

I nodded. "…And we had a group of people we had been with since the start of the turn. Beth's sister and a few others."

Wally groaned in understanding. "They the ones you tryin' to get to?"

"Mmm Hmm." I mumbled around my cigarette.

"I doubt they're in Washington. That place has been crawling with gnashers for a while now. But there _are_ a few other survivor camps out there. They could be in one of them."

I blew out a puff of menthol flavoured smoke. "I've been tryin' to get on the trading crew, so I can check out some of the other camps."

Wallace mumbled a thoughtful sound, "Maybe I can talk to the boss, get 'im to take you out with 'em this afternoon."

I looked up to his grey eyes surrounded by crinkled, leathery skin. "That'd be cool. Thanks, man."

"What's your plan when you find 'em? You gonna try to bring 'em back here?"

I shook my head, "Don't think so. Sooner we're out of here the better."

Wally furrowed his brow. "Don't think anyone's ever tried to leave before. I can tell you now there isn't a place like ours out there."

I dropped my cigarette to the ground and stomped on it to extinguish the glowing embers. "Negan came into our room last night when I was out. Scared Beth." I turned to watch Wally's reaction, "Do you think she's gonna be safe with him around?"

Wally shrugged his shoulders. "He's got his code when it comes to the ladies. Word is when this all started he was out with his wife and best friend. Caught them sleeping together, killed the friend. And the wife…well…she isn't here."

"So what? He got a broken heart so now he's gotta bone every girl he meets?"

Wally chuckled at my implication "He's got messed up ideas on how relationships work, but he respects the vows of marriage, the vows of loyalty."

I scoffed, "How could he respect loyalty? He's got three wives and he's still chasin' tail."

Wally raised his shoulders and turned out his hand in an exaggerated display of uncertainty. "I did say he has some messed up ideas. All I know is he made Sherry ─ the first girl he married from this lot─ divorce her husband before he touched her. He won't touch a married woman." Wally gave me a gentle nudge on the shoulder and smirked. "My advice; if you really want to keep 'The kid' safe, you should marry 'er."

"I ain't about to marry Beth just so some dumbass will keep his hands off 'er. I ain't provin' nothin' to no-one but Beth, and Beth would want me to marry 'er for more than that."

Wally stopped in his tracks and turned to face me, "Look, he has plenty of girls to keep him busy. Scaring 'the kid' would've just been a bit of fun for him; a demonstration of his power. If you stay on his good side, you shouldn't have any problems."

I mumbled agreement, even though I felt the only way to stay on his good side was to stay out of his way all together.

Wally chucked me on the shoulder playfully. "Why _didn't_ the gnasher cross the road?"

I groaned.

"'Cause he didn't have any guts." Wally chuckled to himself again.

I shook my head condescendingly, "That really is…a stinker."

* * *

It had been the first time I had done a shift at the hotel since coming to this place. I usually swapped shifts at the various outposts spotted over the place. This was the first time I had the opportunity to stop by the room during the day.

It had been bugging me my entire shift that I had left Beth in misery that morning, and every morning, and I thought it would be a relief to see her, even if it was only for a moment.

I knocked on the door and was angered that she opened it immediately, without even taking enough time to check who it was. I closed the door behind me and was ready to growl at her when she pounced on me, wrapping her arms and legs around me and mauling my lips with her teeth. It was a complete contrast to the way I had left her this morning.

I had to tear my face away from hers to catch a breath. "Girl, you're more confusing than a Japanese crossword written in reverse!"

She flashed her pearly white teeth at me. It was a brilliant smile I hadn't seen since we were back at the school. "I'm feelin' real good about today." She dropped her feet to the floor and started tugging my shirt up. "Somethin's gonna happen. You're gonna get a lead on the others."

"Hold up, girl, I only got a minute." I weakly resisted, pushing her hands away.

"It'll only take a minute." She nipped at my bottom lip. It hurt. Hurt good.

Not wanting to waste any more time arguing, I tugged my Airborne off my shoulder, dropped it to the ground and finished the job of removing my shirt, while she slipped out of her new pale blue tee.

She rushed into me again, slamming me back into the door, and forced her hand past my belt and straight down my pants grabbing around my cock that was just starting to firm up.

I frantically tore at the buckles of her belt trying to keep up with her pace and she pried at my belt as I ripped hers out and tugged down her jeans so she could kick them off.

With my jeans finally around my ankles, I lifted her up by the thighs and turned her around forcing her back into the door for extra support.

She let out a high pitched squeal, and threw her head back against the door with a thud as I slid my way into her. Her legs wrapped me in a vice, so that she was the one controlling the movement, rocking and rolling her hips over me as she moaned and groaned into my ear.

All I could do was stand there and enjoy the sensation, resting a hand against the door to steady myself as she commandeered my cock. I tried to focus more on the pleasure than the thoughts of who could hear us outside the door.

It couldn't have been much more than a minute of her grinding herself against me before my skin was tingling, my head was spinning, my nuts were going tight, and I knew I was just about ready to blow my load. I tried to pull out of her, but she locked her legs around me even tighter.

"Beth!" I groaned as I continued my attempt to pry her away before it was too late.

Then there was a loud thumping at the door, and I almost dropped her as her legs suddenly loosened their grip.

"Sorry about the _fuckus interruptus_." It was the irritatingly over-confident voice of Negan. "Sounded like it was getting pretty fucking good too."

"What d' you want?" I barked at the door, my almost-ready-to-blow dick immediately softening at the sound of his voice.

Beth must have lost the moment too, as she wriggled off my legs, ducked under my arms and started crawling on the floor grabbing up her clothes.

"That old fucker Wallace says you wanted to come on a trade run today."

I rolled my eyes and looked down to Beth who looked just as annoyed by the interruption as I was.

"Yeah." I called back through the door as I reached down to pull up my jeans.

"Well wash your dick off and meet me downstairs. In the lounge."

* * *

One of Negan's ass sniffing henchmen, Chris, was standing by the door of the lounge waiting for me. As I approached he grinned knowingly at me, and then swiped his card on the reader causing the door to click signifying it was unlocked.

The sound of high pitched tittering of women laughing and the lower rumbling of men talking, drifted through the closed door of the members lounge. I half expected to see what I did when I opened the door.

The view before me consisted of a buck naked woman dancing on the stage, gyrating and dipping her hips. The apathetic look on her face, and the lack of music making it seem even more seedy. There was a single girl at each of the three sofas, surrounded by a group of men with their dirty hands all over them. It reminded me of the bars Merle used to drag me to when I was younger. The type gave me the creeps then, and even more so now.

"Daryl." My skin crawled at the sound of Negan's voice. I wondered if Wally had told him my real name. I preferred it when he knew me only as Wyatt.

I turned to face him, he was sitting by the bar, whiskey glass in hand, a busty topless girl with golden brown hair perched on his knee.

He waved me over. "Come have a drink with me."

I shook my shoulders trying to shift the sensation of bugs crawling under my skin, and walked over to him.

I took the stool next to him, trying to avoid the pair of large dark nipples that were right in front of my face, my eyes falling to the bat that leant against Negan's stool, covered in rust-stained twisted and spiked wire.

Something ground against the table and I raised my eyes to the glass that Negan was pushing my way.

"Drink it." He urged "Let me get to know you better."

I took the glass and downed the whiskey in one swig, hoping it would settle my nerves, and then returned my eyes to the bat.

"Meet, Honey." He nudged the girls arm and she held it out to me.

"Hi." I said flicking my eyes up to her and then back down.

"I called her Honey, 'cause I can't remember her fucking name."

"It's Audrina." Audrina insisted.

"See, forgotten it already." Negan chuckled to himself, before taking a sip of his whiskey, and then urging; "Look at her titties, Daryl."

"I'm right." I squirmed a little on the stool, hoping this game he was playing would be over soon.

"C'mon Daryl, no harm in looking. Beth is fine as fuck but she's lacking a bit in the titty department."

I glanced up at her tits. "Yep, nice."

"Touch 'em." He urged.

I glared past Audrina and to his slimy smiling face. "I ain't touchin' nothin'."

"Go on. Honey don't mind do you Honey?" Audrina shook her head. "She isn't married." Negan went on. "She's anyone's game." He leered at me, lifting his eyebrows suggestively.

"No thankyou." I insisted.

I looked to my empty glass on the table hoping the bar tender would get the point and pour me another drink so I might be able to gain some control of my nerves before I punched him.

Negan took Audrina by the chin and turned her face towards me. "How many men have touched your titties today, Honey?"

"I don't know. Six or Seven." She replied nonchalantly.

"See it means nothing to her, so just touch them."

I shook my head.

Negan sighed in what seemed like frustration. "You've offended her Daryl. Honey only has one job to do around here, and you're not letting her do it. We all have jobs to do. Bartenders, cleaners, runners, scouts. But there's no job for a teacher." He sniggered to himself. "You have a job around here too. In fact you have two, if you want to take care of your girl… And both of those jobs involve you being able to take orders." He smiled at me as understanding began to show on my face. "You can take orders, right Daryl?"

I knew what this was all about. He was trying to show me what kind of work he had planned for Beth, if I couldn't follow orders, and therefore couldn't work. I thought back to when we had first been rescued. When Wally had told us we could go, but only with what we were carrying. I wondered how long we would last out there with no heading, and no weapons but a couple of knives and a hand gun with ten rounds.

I reluctantly nodded.

"So touch her titties."

I clenched one fist by my side and held the other hand out in front of me, an inch away from her tit.

Negan gave Audrina a nudge and she moved forward until her tit filled my hand. It felt like a warm bag of Jell-O. I snapped my hand back, thinking of Beth. I liked her small firm tits that fit perfectly in the palm of my hand, and didn't wobble all over the place every time she moved.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I glared at him and slowly shook my head, my dagger throwing eyes not leaving his.

"And now I know you can follow orders, which means you can come on a trade run with me."

I needed to get Beth away from this manipulative, nut-job freak. If I didn't get some kind of lead on the others today, then Beth and I were just going to have to take our chances out there on our own, armed or not.

* * *

We took a convoy of a large truck, two pick-ups, a suburban and a mini-van, and drove around thirty minutes west of the hotel, to where the buildings gave way to green hills and open pastures, dotted with the odd walker rather than cattle.

We pulled down a dirt driveway and towards a white ranch style farm house that was surrounded by tents and trailer homes, and pens filled with what looked to be pigs. The place was fenced off by a makeshift barrier of wooden and metal posts dug into the ground with barbed wire wrapped between them.

There were around ten or so walkers milling around the fence, some of them attached to the barbs by their clothing or skin. There were a few more dotted around the surrounding paddocks.

Without even leaving the road, the crew I was with started opening fire on the walkers, putting them all down within minutes, and then we rolled on towards a large wire mesh gate, manned by two timid looking spotty faced teenagers, who looked less than happy to see us.

The cars were driven in and parked in a line by the fence, and we all jumped out and walked towards the crowd of people that was spilling out the front door of the ranch house. I gave them a quick scan trying to look for a familiar face, but they were all worn-out looking strangers.

Negan instructed the men to drop the gate to the truck, and then strutted over to the huddle of people, swinging his bat around with one hand and waving to myself and a few others to follow with the other.

He stopped before a grey haired man dressed with mucked up boots, denim overalls, flax hat and a terrified look on his face.

Negan took the bat in two hands and swung it slow, and exaggerated through the air, clearly trying to intimidate the harmless looking farmer. "My bacon shipment was light last week, Kenneth."

"I'm sorry, Negan." Kenneth mumbled. "We gave you all we could spare, our sows didn't come to farrow as much this season."

Negan continued to swing his bat. "I know you said you were having a bit of trouble with supplying our demand, but I gave you people weeks to come up with the goods. Fucking weeks. And all we got was six fucking skinny runts." He sighed in false frustration. "You know the deal. We kill the gnashers, you supply the bacon. Our services don't come for free."

It didn't seem like a fair deal, the walkers I saw surely could have been handled by the people here.

Kenneth replied nervously, "Yes, but we can't make the sows farrow. What we have is what we have."

Negan waved his arm across the pig pens, and to the snorting pink bodies snuffling through the mud. "I see a lot of fucking bacon out there."

"They're our breeding stock."

"And how is that a fucking problem?"

"Well, if we give what we have, we'll have nothing to breed with, and there will be no pigs for next time."

Negan turned his head over his shoulder towards Troy, one of his tall, bulky henchmen. "Bring the rope."

Troy smiled slyly and then turned back to his pick-up and pulled a thick coil of rope out, draping it over his shoulder.

Negan turned back to Kenneth. "I know how this shit works. You only need one pig with a dick, so he can fuck all the bitch pigs. Give me all the rest."

My eyes slipped back to Troy who marched over to the house, unravelled an end of the rope and wrapped it around his wrist until it was in a tight bundle, and then tossed it up towards the exposed rafters of the porch. The first time it hit the sheet metal roofing and came straight back into his hands. The second time it slipped through the gap between the roof and the front cross beam and fell back down on the other side.

"But if I do that, we won't have enough diversity in the breeding stock, the future generations will be deformed." Kenneth continued to reason.

Troy began winding the rope around his hand and forming what looked like a large slip knot.

"I don't care how pretty it is, I just want to eat it."

"But Negan…" Kenneth's voice trailed off as he examined the hangman's noose that was swaying gently from side to side dangled from the rafters of the porch.

I turned to the men and women standing beside me, their faces stone cold as they watched the scene in front of them.

"N…N…Negan." Kenneth stuttered. "W…w…we can work s…s…something out."

"I like my bacon. It's my fucking favourite." Negan paced back and forth in front of the line of terrified people, his bat over his shoulder. "Which one of these people is your favourite, Kenneth?"

"Y…you can have the pigs, Negan, we only need one male like you said."

"I know what I can fucking have and what I fucking can't, but you were going to take away my favourite food. I want _you_ to know what it feels like to be told you can't have something you really, fucking want."

He reached forward and grabbed a kid by the collar of his shirt. He didn't look much older than Carl, or much younger than Beth.

"This one is your son isn't it?" Negan asked as he jiggled the bean pole kid around by the collar of his shirt.

"Y…yes." Kenneth replied.

"Is he your favourite?"

"N…No."

"So now you're fucking lying to me?"

"N…no I don't have a favourite."

"Bullshit." Negan barked.

He shoved the kid in the direction of Troy. "String him up." He ordered.

"What's he doin'?" I asked Chris, standing to my right.

His only response was "Shhh!"

Troy looped the rope over the kid's terrified looking face, and tightened the noose around his neck.

"He kills kids?" My voice was tight in apprehension now.

"Just watch." Chris muttered back.

So I did. I watched as Troy took the other end of the rope and began tugging it backward lifting the kid a few inches off the ground. The kid kicked his feet around, his boots skimming along the timbers of the porch as he tried to get a footing and his fingers tugged at the loop of rope around his neck. His face was a shade of tomato mixed with wild grape, spittle forming on his lips as he tried to gasp for breath. A woman's wails ran shrill through the air; I assumed it was his mother.

Kenneth dropped to his knees before Negan. "Please. We'll double the tithe. We'll triple it."

Negan pointed over to the large truck with the ramp down. "I want to see that truck filled with my bacon, in say…" He glanced back toward the crowd of his henchmen behind me. "How long does it take for a hanged man to die?"

"As little as thirty seconds." Someone called back.

"You better fucking hurry!" Negan called to the already scrambling bodies as they scattered towards the pig pens.

They opened the gates and began herding the fat and slow animals out of the pens, panicking as they ran wild. It was like a scene from a clown show as they jumped on pigs and grabbed at their feet and dragged them, frantically trying to get them on the truck.

"Your kid's looking kinda blue." Negan called out above the panicked shrieks and cries and squeals of pigs.

I looked to the kid, his face bright purple now, his feet still. It had already been more than thirty seconds. He wasn't going to last as long as it would take to get those animals on the truck.

Could I let something like this slide?

I scanned over the group of panicked survivors. They looked just like we did back at Beth's farm. The hanging kid looked just like Carl.

There was a loud thump, and surprised cry as Troy fell heavily to the porch. The blue kid fell beside him gasping and clawing at his throat. The threads of the rope dangling from the kid's neck unfurling slowly.

On the side panelling of the porch, one of my arrows was embedded, still quivering from the force of impact.

Everyone was silent. Even the mother who had been wailing seconds before. I turned from the sight of the boy huddled on the ground to the crowd of people standing still as statues, who all had their eyes on me. I scanned over their dumbfounded faces until Negan filled my view.

His dark eyes were full of malice, but his square cheeks were raised, and on his lips was a sickening, pleased grin.

* * *

The sound of Negan's deep rumbling voice singing along with a country western song on the radio echoed throughout the cab of the tuck and made my guts clench in anticipation.

He hadn't said a word to me since I had saved the kid, except when he told me to sit in the truck with him. And now he was smiling and singing and acting like I hadn't done anything wrong, but I knew I had.

When I spotted the hotel in the distance, he turned down the music and looked to me with a grin still on his face.

"Do you think I got to this place by being stupid?" He asked without losing his grin.

I shook my head, not sure what answer he was looking for.

"Do you think I would actually kill a fucking kid? What kind of sick fuck do you think I am?"

"He was seconds away from death." I muttered.

"So? I had seconds to cut him down. You didn't need to fucking intervene. You shouldn't have fucking intervened."

I chewed the side of my nail and turned to look out the window. I knew there wasn't anything I could say to make him re-think whatever punishment he had planned for me. I hoped it was just a beating, a beating I could handle. If he was taking away our food, it meant Beth would suffer and I didn't want that.

"I thought we bonded over titties this afternoon." He crooned with false disappointment. "And now you've gone and made me look fucking stupid. Now my pig suppliers are going to lose all fucking respect for me."

I glanced back at him, my face screwed up in irritation. "You want me to say I'm sorry or somethin'?"

Negan chuckled. "You're not sorry. Yet."

I didn't like the way he said _yet_. I could sense a cruel and unusual punishment brewing.

"Look Negan, I appreciate you takin' us in, and feedin' us and what not, but I can see you and I do things differently. I'm thinkin' it may be better if Beth and I just move on. You can keep the bike and the bows as payment. We'll just take ourselves out of your hair."

Negan sneered. "You think I'm worried about payment?"

I shrugged.

"For one thing. All your shit is already mine. The second thing, despite what it may look like, this isn't a fucking holiday camp. Once you come, you don't leave."

I dropped the hand that was fiddling by the side of my face and glared at him.

"What're we your prisoners now?"

"No. Not prisoners. But you're never fucking leaving. Even when you're dead, we'll chain you to the fence." He chuckled lightly. "I know you think I'm fucking stupid, but I'm not. You know where we are, what we have, our numbers, our fucking weaknesses. What's to stop you from joining up with one of my disgruntled customers and taking over everything I've worked so fucking hard to keep?"

I waved my hand to the scenery outside the window, the hotel now taking up most of the view.

"We don't even know no-one out there. We ain't even got a place to go to. Beth and I aren't a threat."

"But you fucking are Daryl!" he had dropped his friendly façade and was now growling angrily. "Everyone who isn't with us is fucking against us. You're staying right fucking here, and you're living by my fucking rules!"

I tensed my jaw in frustration, just wanting to kill the guy right here and now, but scared what would happen to Beth if I failed.

"And you're gonna be punished for stepping out of line today."

My insides felt like they were going to explode out my chest, my whole body was throbbing and tingling with adrenaline.

"And you're not gonna make a big fucking fuss about it, or you'll find your girl gets the same treatment."

Negan wound down the window to scan his card against the reader. The gate opened and he rolled through stopping beside a man by the gate.

"Get everyone down in the laundry room." Negan said to him, his cheerful tone returning. "And heat up the press."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you're a comic book reader you'll be pooping your pants again right about now...


	5. Bowman's Salute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Remember it's the Zombie apocalypse. Not Fantasia.
> 
> Song: Tom Waits 'Long way home'

 

I had served myself up a big plate of cabbage, potato mash and Lima beans for dinner. I was starved as I hadn't eaten all day due to feeling sick. I wasn't one to be fussy, we had been fed well here, but I did silently wish they still had pork rather than beans.

I planned to sit by myself in the bustling dining room, but Mandy's golden hair caught my eye, and she waved me over to sit at a table with her and another sophisticated looking women with brown hair that curled around her jaw. Glad for the company I walked over to them and sat down.

"This is Sherry." Mandy introduced me to the woman. I remembered the name as belonging to one of Negan's wives.

I shook her hand and said hello, and eyed over their plates that contained pork, and vegetables and a few squares of chocolate on the side. I figured they were meals set aside for Negan's girls.

"I hear Negan has his eye on you." Sherry said pleasantly.

I blushed, not knowing how to respond to a woman who was accusing me of being an interest of her husband.

"I don't know why." I said with a shrug of my shoulders. "I'm nothing special."

"You're new. He likes new toys." Sherry's warm smile unnerved me.

"So what did you guys do before all this started?" I attempted to change the topic of conversation, and munched on some beans to settle my nervous stomach.

"I was a nurse." Sherry admitted.

"I was in college. Wanted to major in finance." Mandy said casually, as if she wasn't the least bit bothered that the world ending had put a major halt in her plans. "What about you?"

"Teacher." I replied, thinking about the answer I gave earlier to Negan.

The girls both sniggered. "Come on." Mandy said. "I know you're not a teacher. You don't look a day over twenty."

I shrugged. "I wanted to be a teacher." I didn't really want to be a teacher. Not until I had been at the school with the kids. I frowned to myself as I thought about them.

"You don't look so sure." Sherry's brow furrowed as she observed my face.

"Well, I had stupid dreams of bein' a singer." I laughed to myself. That was a stupid dream then and an even stupider dream now. "I could play a bit of piano and guitar. Dreamed I would've had a band someday."

Mandy and sherry looked at each other exchanging some kind of silent conversation with their eyes.

"Negan could use a singer." Mandy informed me. "Over in the lounge. Add to the atmosphere."

I shook my head. "Daryl says I'm not to go near the lounge."

Sherry reached out and touched my hand, almost condescendingly. "Daryl doesn't have much say in what happens around here…"

We were interrupted when a flushed looking Carson stepped before us.

"Everyone's being called down to the laundry room." He told us with urgency in his voice.

Mandy and Sherry's faces both dropped.

"Why?" Mandy asked

"Someone's messed up. Negan's getting the press out."

Mandy gasped and drew her hands into her chest protectively "We haven't done anything, I haven't even looked at another man."

Carson shrugged. "I don't know what it's over, but you need to get downstairs. Now."

* * *

The usually huge looking laundry looked cramped filled with nervously fidgeting bodies. The flickering single globe was now replaced with several working globes that showered the bodies with unnatural light.

Sherry, Mandy and I made our way down the stairs and pushed through the crowd to see what was happening in the centre of the room that everyone was staring at. When I had finally broken through, I gasped at the sight before me.

Daryl was bent over, face down, on one of the stainless steel laundry tables, with two men on either side of him holding his arms and pushing down on his shoulders to keep him in place, but Daryl wasn't even struggling.

Negan was standing in front of him swinging Lucille through the air.

"Daryl?" I squeaked, as I stepped forward.

Daryl's eyes flicked up to mine, full of…something. Anger? Hatred? Defeat?

I went to run to him but my wrist was snapped back by Mandy's firm grasp.

"Don't interfere." She whispered urgently.

Negan looked up to me as I stared at the scene before me, Mandy's hand still wrapped firmly around my wrist.

"I'm so glad you're here, Beth. I was just telling Daryl howLucille doesn't like it when people step out of line. She likes everything to stay in neat little rows."

He held the bat up to his face cradling it gently in his hands.

"Do you wanna put him in place baby?" He asked the bat.

He turned his ear to the bat as if it were talking to him.

"Well you're in luck, Daryl." He bellowed excitedly, "Lucille says we should give you a chance, seeing as though it's your first infraction and all."

I felt the slightest hint of relief, but the show clearly was not over.

"However, you do need to be punished. Every crime has its punishment, and making me look like a fucking idiot is a pretty big crime around here."

Negan looked to the men holding Daryl down. "Take him over to the press."

Daryl was silent, and didn't put up an active struggle, but he let his feet drag as they pulled him over to a steaming, smoking, hissing iron press, pushed up against the wall of the laundry.

Negan pulled the top open to reveal suspiciously gory looking black and red residue covering both surfaces of the metallic plates, which I thought were normally covered in fabric on such an instrument.

As if Daryl started to realise what was happening wasn't going to be pleasant, he struggled more against the grip of his captors, throwing his shoulders around and grunting and muttering a slur of unintelligible curses.

"No!" I called pulling out of Mandy's grip and hurtling across the room and straight into the meaty shoulder of Wallace who blocked my path.

"Stay back, Kid." He said solemnly as he wrapped his arms around my trembling shoulders.

Negan looked up at me. "She just wants a closer look. She wants to see what will happen to her if her man keeps struggling."

I heard Daryl whimper and his body went limp in the grip of his captors.

"Do you want to watch the flesh melt off lover boys face, honey?" Negan asked me in a sickeningly steady and smooth voice.

"No, please don't." I cried as I tried to wriggle out of Wallace's grip. It was useless. Not only was he about twice as strong as Daryl, but my arms and legs felt so numb and weak, he probably couldn't even feel me struggling.

"You don't want me to melt his face off?" Negan asked again.

"No!" I shrieked, feeling as if my sanity was about to disappear. "Please don't. Please don't!" I squeaked over and over again.

Negan rubbed his fingers across his shaven chin thoughtfully.

"You know I think you might be on to something." He waved his hand towards Daryl and the men stopped forcing his face forward. "I mean the punishment should fit the crime. And his pretty face didn't embarrass me in front of all those fucking people."

Negan handed Lucille over to a man by his side and began pacing back and forth as he continued to rub his chin in thought. "It was your bow that embarrassed me wasn't it?"

He stopped suddenly pushing his fingers into the air as if he had just thought of something.

"I've got it. It's fucking brilliant." He beamed at me, holding up his middle and index finger in a V shape. "The old bowman's salute."

Negan marched over to Daryl and grabbed at his right arm and pulled it across the nearby table.

"Have you heard the story?" He asked Daryl, while he fumbled around in Daryl's sheath for his knife. "Back in the good old primeval times, they used to capture bowman and cut off their middle and index fingers so they couldn't draw a bow anymore. Now I'm no fucking historian, but I think that's bullshit. If you caught your enemy surely you would just kill him, don't you think?"

Daryl simply glared at him in response, I could see he was distressed, his eyes were full of unshed tears, his neck muscles were bulging with tension, and it looked as if his hand was trembling.

"But you're not my enemy are you Daryl?" Negan continued.

Daryl still didn't answer.

"Good, so I don't have to kill you. But I will take these little fuckers."

He raised his arm up high revealing he had hold of Daryl's knife and before I could say or do anything or really understand what was happening he had slammed the knife down into Daryl's index finger.

I could hear wailing ringing though the dozens of bodies in the room. Both a high pitched shrieking wail, and a strained, deep, gravelly wail.

Daryl and I were both screaming as Negan proceeded to hack away at Daryl's fingers, the flesh and bone snapping, crackling and popping as he sawed the blade back and forth and wiggled it in and out.

Daryl's wail was cut short as his head fell to the table, I assumed in a faint, and my wail was cut short when my dinner exploded onto Wallace's arm.

My trembling legs gave way and Wallace held me up with his vomit covered arm. He was whispering something in my ear, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. The only thing I could focus on was the bloody mess of Daryl's hand before me, his blood pooling over the silvery finish of the stainless steel.

Negan scooped up the two long pieces of human skin, flesh and bone and held them in front of Daryl's face. "I bet they were you're girl's favourite fingers too huh? Am I right?"

Daryl didn't respond. He was still out cold.

He tossed the two fingers into the puddle of vomit by my feet.

"Am I right honey? Were they your favourite?"

I managed to pull my eyes away from the sight of Daryl's fingers and raise them to meet Negan's grinning face.

"What's with the face? Would you rather I killed him?" He gloated.

I gritted my teeth, angry tears stinging my eyes. He would pay for doing this. I didn't know how, and I don't know when, but he would pay.

"Carson" He called to the pale looking man with glasses, sliding off the tip of his nose. "Show them a new room. First floor. And get Helen in there to see to his hand. Don't want that fucker getting infected or we'll have to cut the whole thing off. Won't be much use to anyone with just a fucking stump."

Negan bent and picked up Daryl's bow from the floor by his feet. "And put this to good use. He won't be needing it anymore."

* * *

Daryl's body was large, limp and heavy, but Wallace took most of the weight as we carried him up the two flights of stairs and waited by the door of room one-zero-six, while Carson swiped a card across the reader to give us access.

Carson turned to me and placed the card into my palm. "This card will only open this door. Nothing else. Eating and showering will depend on the whim of the boss. I'll need your old room card." He beckoned for the card with a flick of his finger.

Reluctantly I fished the card out of my pocket and handed it over.

"I'll have your things brought down to you." Carson declared before taking off down the hall.

Wallace stepped away from me and into the room and dropped Daryl's slack body down in the evening darkness. He fumbled around for a few moments before lighting a candle to reveal Daryl was lying on an off-white, stained mattress that was among a pile of deteriorated papers and mouldy cloths on the filthy floor.

I gave the tiny room a quick look over noting the small window in the room that was partially covered with cardboard, swollen with damp. The part of the window that wasn't covered revealed the jagged edges of broken glass. There was no desk or desk chair or sofa, the only thing in the room other than rubbish and the dirty mattress was a pile of blankets and an awful smell. It reeked of mould, and the rot that wafted in through the broken window, and stale urine that rose though the dirty carpet.

I quickly scanned the bathroom as I walked past noting it had been stripped back to tiles. There was no basin, no shower and only a gaping hole in the ground where the toilet used to be.

A gentle tapping of the outer door made me turn to the entry to see a plump middle aged woman standing with a lantern in one hand, and a large bag in the other.

"Negan asked me to see to his hand." The woman, who I assumed was Helen, pointed to Daryl who was lying back flat on the mattress, still unconscious.

I nodded to her and helped her clear a space beside him.

"What's wrong with him…other than the obvious?" I ran my hand over Daryl's cold, pale and clammy forehead, pushing back his damp locks of short hair.

Helen had her fingers pressed to his wrist. "His blood pressure is quite low. He may be suffering from circulatory shock." Helen began un-wrapping the blood stained rag Wallace had managed to bundle around Daryl's hand before we had picked him up. "Did you see how much blood he lost?"

"It didn't seem like too much." I said in a mouse-like voice, thinking about the pool of red Daryl's hand had been in.

"Maybe a pint, don't think any more." Wallace added.

Helen pulled down the skin around Daryl's eye sockets and pulled down his bottom lip. "He should be okay, you'll have to give him lots of fluids."

Wallace stood from his crouched position and went to the doorway. "I'll get some bottles." He jogged down the hall and out of sight.

"I think it may be a bit of emotional shock if anything." Helen said, while sifting through medical supplies in her bag.

I shook my head. "Not Daryl, he doesn't let that kind of stuff get to him."

"You'd be surprised of what men can handle and what they can't." She unrolled a white wrap, to reveal a collection of steel tools and pulled out a set of long nosed tweezers. "It's probably for the best he's out of it. I have to pull out the shards of bone, and without anaesthesia, it can be quite painful."

I grabbed on to Daryl's good hand and gave it squeeze, hoping he would at least know I was there for him.

"It'll be okay." I reassured him, and attempted to reassure myself.

I whispered words of comfort that I didn't entirely believe, held his hand, and stroked his forehead while she continued to pluck the fragments of bone out, stitch up the open flesh, and wrap his hand up with a clean bandage.

By the time she had finished up, Carson and Wallace returned with water and our meagre belongings from upstairs. Helen shooed everyone out of the room including the reluctant and repentive Wallace. She placed a bottle of antibiotics into my hand and assured me he would be okay.

I was sure he would be physically okay, but mentally? I wasn't so sure.

"Does this happen often?" I asked as she walked out the door.

She frowned. "Not always in the same way. People have lost whole hands for stealing, tongues for talking out of line, faces for sleeping with the boss's wives. Everything in this world has gone primeval. " She glanced back to Daryl. "Really he didn't get it too bad."

I watched as her lantern light disappeared down the dark hall and then turned back to our room of stench and dancing candle lit shadows.

It was nothing like the room we had upstairs. It was smaller, and lacked furnishings and only had one candle. The most disturbing thing was that there was no chair to prop under the door handle.

I grabbed one of the blankets on the ground and tried to tear at it with my teeth, but it was too thickly woven. I went to my knees and crawled over Daryl to retrieve the knife that had been used to sever his fingers.

As I slipped it out of the sheathe, his right hand shot forward and grabbed mine.

"Fuck!" He growled as he drew the hand back and cradled it against his chest with his left.

I leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fucking not!" He snarled, as he examined the bandage on his hand.

"Where are my fucking fingers?"

"He…he cut them off."

"I fucking know that! Where are they?"

I shook my head. "Said he was feeding them to the walkers." I bit my lip and tried to fight back the tears.

Daryl threw his shoulders up, to shake me off and rolled to the side, glaring at the wall in front of him.

Wary of the still open door, I went back to hacking at the blanket with Daryl's knife and tearing it into a long strip, while keeping a cautious eye on Daryl.

He kept stared at the peeling wallpaper in front of him, while I wrapped the lengths of fabric between the bathroom and entry door handles and tied them tightly. It probably wasn't as secure as a chair, but it would at least slow down Negan if he tried to barge in on us.

My heart was still pounding in my ears, fuelled by the rush of adrenaline I had felt hours earlier. I didn't know if I would be able to sleep, but I knew I was supposed to be tired, and Daryl would need his rest. I undressed and pulled out a sweater and shorts to sleep in from our bag of belongings, and then pulled off Daryl's boots for him.

He didn't respond to my tugging, he just kept staring.

I shook out the dusty and musty smelling blankets, and then curled up beside him and pulled them up over the pair of us.

"It's not so bad." I forced a horribly false cheerful tone into my voice. "We slept in tents and cars and shipping containers before. Even the prison wasn't much better than this." I chuckled softly. "The first time we did it was in a place worse than this."

"We gotta get out of here." Daryl grunted. The sudden and unexpected sound of his voice making me jump.

"I know. When you've rested we'll look at leaving. Even if we've only got our bows, we'll take our chances…"

"No. He won't let us."

"Won't let us leave?"

He shook his head.

"Well, we'll just have to stick around until we can figure out a way out of this place." I glanced around the room.

"It's fucked." Daryl snarled.

"It'll be fine. We've been in worse situations..."

"My hand." Daryl held up his bandage, blood beginning to seep through.

"It's not so bad compared to some of the things Helen told me about."

Daryl slowly clenched and unclenched the three fingers on his hand. "Can't even use a weapon."

I shifted myself upwards and pulled his morose looking face into my chest and ran my fingers through his hair in an effort to comfort him. "What about your other hand?"

"That'd take weeks to get used to."

"You can pull a trigger with your ring finger, right?"

Daryl flexed his ring finger as if testing its range of motion. "The recoil would throw that shit right outta my hand. I'd have to use two hands for everythin' now."

I pointed over to the crossbow at the foot of the mattress.

"A crossbow uses two hands. You could still use that."

"How the fuck am I gonna cock the thing, Beth." He barked, startling me again. "All the strength in my hand is in those two fingers."

"Well I can do it with my weak girly arms." I chuckled weakly. "I'm sure you could manage it."

"Nah, he's fucked me. He's taken away everythin' I was. Everythin' I am."

He pulled his head away from me and rolled back to his side, his eyes fixed on his mutilated hand, a frown still on his face.

I scoffed in irritation. "Everythin' you are?"

I wasn't about to lose my strong man to misery. I wasn't about to let my tough as nails man mope over his lost fingers. I wasn't about to have the man who meant more than the world to me believe he was nothing more than a bow string puller.

I gripped him around his shoulders and forced him back down on to the mattress and threw a leg over to straddle him.

"Nut up, Dixon!" I called to him in my best Merle Dixon voice, while giving his shoulders a firm shake.

He glared up me with a mixture of anger, shock and confusion in his eyes.

"Stop bein' such a pussy!" I continued. "Merle got by with a whole hand taken off, you're just missin' a couple of fingers!"

Daryl pouted and turned his face away from me, but I gripped him by his chin and forced his face back.

"You're gonna do everythin' just the same as you did before." I insisted. "You're gonna make smart ass remarks and ride 'round on a loud-ass motorcycle just like a Dixon. Aren't you?"

I waited for his response but he just continued to glare up at me.

"Aren't you?" I urged on.

He sighed. "Maybe."

"No. Yes. Yes ma'am."

The corner of his lip twitched as if he was fighting a smile.

"Yes ma'am." He mimicked.

"You're gonna climb rocks with an arrow wound in your side and blow up tanks just like a Dixon."

He sighed again. "Yes ma'am."

"You're gonna kill walkers with golf clubs, and throwin' knives _and_ a crossbow, just like a Dixon."

He looked to his damaged hand and then rested it carefully on my thigh. "Yes ma'am."

I still had the adrenaline pumping through me, making my heart race with excitement and I was feeling empowered sitting over him, demanding he toughen up. My heightened mood was adding fuel to the fire of my already messed up emotions.

Being way past the point of feeling sorry for him, or trying to be gentle with him, I tugged my tee over my head and threw it across the dirty room.

"Now fuck me like a Dixon." I demanded.

His face fell in shock.

"I just lost my fucking fingers, Beth!" He snarled.

"Pussy!" I hissed back.

His angry eyes challenged me at first, and then slowly softened. He smirked and gently tossed his head from side to side.

"Told you I ain't…"

Before he could finish his sentence I was whipping his belt out of his jeans and tugging at his fly.

"Well I'll just fuck you then."

"Yes ma'am." Daryl replied urgently attempting to tug at his shirt but finding it slipped out of his bandaged hand.

Before he could start moping again I tore the shirt off his head and bent down smacking my puckered lips straight down on to his. He opened his mouth allowing my tongue to enter, and I filled his mouth with it, enjoying the hot and wet taste of cigarette, while I helped him pull his jeans down his thighs.

I managed to wriggle and kick my shorts off without moving my mouth from his, and then tucked my knees into the side of his waist and position my hips over his.

He still wasn't completely hard, and I wasn't quite wet enough to simply slip him inside. I pulled my mouth away from him, and leant back so I was positioned with all my weight on top of his hips. I steadied myself by gripping my hands to his belly and began grinding my hips around, pushing and rubbing myself into him as he grew longer and firmer.

I sighed and moaned and I gasped deeply as I felt myself start to throb, my increasing moisture heightening the sensation of him pressing hard against my most tender spots.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, and then shifted his hands upwards from my thighs. Both of his thumbs pressed against the sides of my naval as his hands moved up my twisting waist, to my swivelling chest and then stopped, cupping my heaving breasts between his good fingers.

I pulled my hips back just far enough to put my hand into the damp and heated space between my legs and guide his end to my opening, and then we both sighed long and loud as I took his full length inside me.

"Fuck Beth." He grunted, opening his eyes into narrowed intense slits, and biting down on his bottom lip.

His eyes swept greedily downwards over my collarbones and chest and then to his hands on my breasts, and then he suddenly frowned and pulled his right hand quickly away from me.

Without breaking my gyrating motions, I grabbed his hand and forced it back on to my breast, pushing the bandage into my nipple and splaying his three good fingers around the soft flesh. He groaned in what seemed like a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"I love you." I gasped as I felt the jolts fire through my body, which caused my channel to clench around him. " _All_ of you." I added. "Even…the bits…that aren't…whole."

"I love you too…" he broke off mid-sentence and groaned loudly. "…girl." He added when he had recovered.

"And we're…gonna… be okay." I tossed my head backwards and moaned up to the mould covered ceiling, while he continued the motion that I had dropped once the heat and pulsing and convulsions had taken hold of me.

* * *

I woke to the smell of aging mildew, masked with the muskier and more recent smell of sex, and also to a twanging and grinding sound echoing though the room every several seconds.

I rolled to my side and scanned the morning-lit room to find Daryl hunched over his crossbow, drawing back on the string and then firing it without an arrow.

"What're you doin'?" I mumbled as I sat up and stretched my arms above my head.

"Gonna use me a crossbow…" He smiled up at me. "…Like a Dixon."

I sat up and examined him more closely, observing the way he hooked his bandaged hand under the string and tugged it along. I could tell his right side was much weaker, but he was still pulling it quicker than I ever had.

"Is it hard?"

He shook his head. "Hurts a bit, but think I can get used to cockin' with only three fingers."

I kicked back the blankets and crawled to my feet so I could go over and give him a hug, proud that he was going to fight on, but a tapping at the door sent me diving back to the mattress, pulling the blankets over my naked body.

Daryl quickly slotted an arrow into the crossbow and backed himself against the wall near the door.

"Who is it?" He barked.

"It's Wally." Wallace called from the other side of the door.

Daryl sighed and shook his head with relief. "Just a minute." He waved to me to get dressed, and I pulled on my shorts and tee that were still by the bed.

Checking I was decent, Daryl removed the blanket tie and pulled the door open to reveal the hulking, aged form of Wallace.

He looked to Daryl's bandaged hand wrapped around the trigger hold. "I see you're feelin' better."

Daryl shrugged. "Ain't got time to mourn fingers."

Wallace shifted uncomfortably, looking like he had something on his mind.

"What's up?" Daryl asked.

Wallace sighed. "Boss says you gotta work if you're wanting to eat."

"But he's still recovering…" I started to protest.

"Nah I'm good. I can go out there." Daryl interrupted.

Wally shook his head. "Not you." His eyes went to me. "Her."

I thought about what I had said to Negan's wives last night. I guessed they had told him I could sing, and now he wanted me in the lounge.

Daryl took a step back and raised his crossbow across his chest defensively. "Uh uh. Hell no. I can do it." Daryl insisted.

"Boss says you're injured. Can't have you puttin' the rest of the crew at risk."

"She ain't doin' no god damn mothafuckin' titty show!" Daryl snarled angrily.

"Titty show?" I inquired

Daryl sighed and tossed his head. "That's what's in the lounge, tits and ass, and perverts."

I wondered if Negan wanted me to sing with my clothes on or off.

"No." Wally spoke up. "I convinced him to let her come on a run. With me."

Daryl shook his head. "She ain't cut out for…"

I jumped up and stepped in front of Daryl. "Yes I am. I can pull my own weight. I can pull Daryl's too, until he's better."

Daryl eyed me up and down looking unconvinced.

"I can take care of myself, Daryl." I insisted. "And you."

"I'll be there. I'll watch her." Wallace reassured.

Daryl slowly nodded his head "Okay."

I quickly tugged on my jeans over my shorts, and searched around for my boots, hoping to get out of the room before Daryl changed his mind. He was still watching me with a look of dreaded uncertainty.

When I was dressed, Daryl pushed the crossbow towards me.

"No." I said holding up my hands. "I'll take the handgun, you keep practisin' with it. It's yours anyway."

"Nah. I gave it to you."

"Well I'm givin' it back to you."

* * *

After handing me a few pieces of pork for breakfast, Wallace ushered me downstairs into the parking garage and towards a crowd of people waiting around vehicles ready to leave.

Wallace strolled over to the six wheeled truck that we had been rescued in, and held out a hand to help me up over the ramp.

"Hold on there, Wally." Negan's sickeningly smooth voice called from behind me.

I turned to see him strutting over to me like a proud peacock. Looking fresh in his clean jeans and highly polished black leather jacket, with Lucille in his hand.

"Can't have this delicate flower up back like livestock." He bent his arm and offered it to me. "You can ride up front. With me."

"No thankyou." I said as I backed into Wallace.

Negan turned full frontal to me. "I insist." His suddenly stern eyes narrowed at me, telling me I had no choice.

"I told Wyatt, I would…" Negan's glare switched to Wallace behind me, and Wallace stopped talking instantly.

"It's okay." I said over my shoulder to re-assure him, and then followed Negan to the cab of the truck.

He held the door open for me, and I climbed up into the seat, and I patted the gun in its holster and slipped my hand into my boot to make sure my knife was still in easy reach. If he tried anything I was going to do my best to take him down.

Negan climbed in beside me, rested his ugly looking bat on the chair by his feet, and started the truck up.

"You wouldn't want to be back there with them. Not a one of them is a fucking gentleman."

"And you are?" I questioned cautiously.

He laughed boisterously. "Of course I am. Have I ever done anything to prove otherwise?"

I didn't answer, I just stared out the front windshield and waited for the truck to finish loading, and for Negan to drive the truck forward, leading the convoy of vehicles through the gate and out on to the road.

* * *

We didn't talk for the half hour journey to the neighbouring city. He listened to loud country and western music on the radio and crooned along with it, flashing me a grin every now and then, which made me shift in my seat nervously.

We arrived at a line of brick buildings in an almost barren street, dotted here and there with the odd walker dragging its feet.

The men all unloaded and fiddled with their weapons, while Negan paced the road in front of the buildings stretching with his bat above his head.

"You stick by me." Wallace muttered from behind me. "Don't try to be a hero, just let me handle it."

"I can handle it." Negan called as he walked forward and tugged me by my arm. "I'm gonna be your personal chaperone today." His slimy grin filled his face.

All I could do was stare at Wallace as Negan dragged me along beside him.

We split off into three groups, Wallace reluctantly going in a different one from mine, and watching me with concern as he disappeared into a two story building.

Negan nodded to me and I followed him into a long single level building, with three men and a woman at my back.

The inside of the building was dark, the windows still covered with thick curtains. There was the familiar smell of rot in the air that told me that walkers were about. Negan switched on a torch and I moved in closer to him, more terrified of what was in the darkness than what Negan could do to me.

He noted my movement and smiled at me. "I'll protect you, honey, no need to be scared."

I removed the safety from my gun. "I'm not scared."

Negan chuckled at me and then walked down the darkened hallways, his bat screeching as it scraped against the ground.

"Anyone home?" He called out ostentatiously.

He was answered by snarls and growls as walkers began throwing themselves out of doors in the corridor and stumbling towards us.

Negan swung his bat through the air and danced around like a ballerina, smashing skull after skull, with expert precision. I heard gunshots firing behind me as the back-up took out more walkers from behind.

With Negan's efficiency, and the people behind me with their guns, there was nothing left for me to do but watch as Negan's beefy arms swing through the air and send gore splatter disappearing into the darkness.

When his back turned, I lined Negan up in my sights, and with my finger on the trigger contemplated what would happen if I killed him.

He seemed pretty confident to give both Daryl and I weapons, so he must have some kind of plan, some kind of vice president, if he were to be killed. I could probably trust Wallace, but I didn't feel I could trust any of the other people who lived at the hotel. I wasn't entirely sure I could kill him in cold blood anyway. As horrible and manipulative as he was, he had kept us alive. I couldn't even say it was in self-defence.

Resolved I wasn't a cold blooded murderer, I dropped my gun and hoped that maybe he would slip up and a walker would attack and kill him instead.

We wound our way through dark corridors, expecting more walkers to stumble out, but the way was clear after the initial wave. After a few minutes of walking through the dark echoing halls I noticed that the strobes of torchlight that had been flashing behind me had disappeared, and that the heavy breathing and irregular muttering had silenced. I stopped and turned to see Negan and I had been left alone.

My heart thudded furiously in my chest.

"We're alone." I mumbled.

Negan stopped and turned to face me, his square features only barely visible in the darkness.

"It's okay. Not far to go now." He flashed his torch down onto a set of steep iron steps. "Watch your step." He advised me, while he descended them, and then held back his hand to help me.

I refused at first, putting my trembling, clammy hand to the cool metal guide rail, but halfway down I lost my footing and my hand slipped of the rail and grabbed hold of his outstretched hand instinctively.

"Lucky you got me here." He gloated.

I shook my hand out of his grip and followed him through the darkness.

A couple of turns and open doorways later, we came to another stairway, this one made an echoing thud sound as we stepped on it as if it were made from wood.

We walked across a wooden floor, and then Negan stopped suddenly, making me walk into his thick and strong back.

"Stay here." He urged, as he turned and backed away, his torchlight leaving with him.

"In the dark?" I squeaked nervously.

"Are you scared?" He called back.

Was this his plan; to lead me to a dark dungeon and then leave me to be eaten by unseen walkers? Would he tell Daryl it was an accident? That I got lost? Would this be his new way of torturing Daryl?

I pulled my knife from my boot and held it against my handgun as I watched Negan's light get smaller and smaller.

My eyes were wide in the darkness, my weight rested on my toes, ready to leap, and my ears were pricked listening for any shuffles or moans or groans that would tell me a walker was near.

With a sudden swishing sound, light filled the room.

I saw Negan standing by a window pulling back huge curtains that extended forever up to the high ceiling. The dust-filled stream of daylight revealed I was standing on a stage in some kind of auditorium, with rows upon rows of seating laid out before me.

I turned around to see the steps I had walked up off-stage, and a large grand piano placed centre-stage.

"Do you like it?" Negan called as he walked back through the aisles towards me. "The girls told me you liked to sing, so here you are, your own stage." He opened his arms wide to his surroundings.

I didn't know what to say. Did he do this especially for me? Did he think I would thank him and praise him?

"Is this what we came for?" I asked. "Shouldn't we be getting' supplies?"

Negan climbed back up on stage and strolled over to the piano.

"My men will." He said as he dropped himself down on the bench, rest his bat beside him then lifted the fall board and began hitting the out of tune keys.

"You'll attract walkers." I whispered as he kept hitting the keys.

"Nope, there aren't any down in here." He waved me over. "Come play something for me."

I shook my head. "I'd rather not."

He sighed grudgingly, "Did Daryl tell you why I cut his fingers off?"

I shook my head.

"I made a deal with some pig farmers in Virginia. They would give us meat and we would keep them safe. But they went back on their part of the deal. I went there to teach them a lesson, it may have been a little harsh, but it was necessary. And then fucking Daryl intervened and fucked it all up."

He paused for a moment and eyed me over. "Did you ever get spanked as a child, Beth?"

I shuddered as I thought of him getting enjoyment from me being spanked.

"Only once. By my mother."

"Only once." He grinned. "'Cause you learnt your lesson the first time, right?"

I nodded.

"Like Daryl, we hope." He began performing a slow glissando that rang out through the auditorium. "I didn't want to do it, but I fucking had to, I can't have a weak link. This place needs to run like clockwork to stay the way it is, I can't have anyone interfering with my food. Hungry men are angry men, angry men do fucking stupid things that end up getting other men killed." He sighed and smiled up at me. "I'm not a bad guy, just trying to keep everyone alive."

He patted the bench beside him. "Come. Play."

"No." I said firmly.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay, I won't make you. Just like I won't make you fuck me." His leering eyes travelled over my body. "But just like my men need their bacon, I need things to keep me docile too. Favours keep me calm, and a calm leader is a better leader, wouldn't you agree?"

The only leader I could really compare to was Rick, and yes, he was better when he was calm.

"If I'm not calm there's no telling what I'd do." Negan went on. "I've been real nice to you. And I don't have to be. I control the food, water, medicine…Daryl. All I want in return is one little fucking song."

I knew what he was trying to tell me. If I didn't do what he wanted, we wouldn't be housed, we wouldn't be fed, Daryl wouldn't get the medical attention he needed, and he would continue to harm Daryl to manipulate me.

I would play his game. For now.

I slipped on to the bench beside him, the heat of his body radiating through the leather pressed against my arm making my skin crawl. I put my fingers to the keys, playing at random chords that I thought would harmonise with the song I planned to sing to him.

_Put food on the table_   
_And roof overhead_   
_But I'd trade it all tomorrow_   
_For the highway instead_   
_Watch your back if I should tell you_   
_Love's the only thing I've ever known_   
_One thing for sure pretty baby I always take the long way home_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I totally just mutilated Daryl Dixon! I guess in comparison it's not so bad…
> 
> Just FYI I did the research and you can actually still draw a compound bow with only your thumb, pinky and ring finger if you train that way. But let's just say Daryl and Negan don't know that, for drama's sake.
> 
> I'm guesstimating two weeks til the next chapters, but possibly less. I'm excited as the good stuff is coming soon :)


	6. Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it took so long. Hubby was home and taking up all my mental space and invading my writing time. Thanks for all the support for the last chapter that was among my most brutal. I really do like challenging my characters, and I'm glad most of you get me. There is more Daryl pain in this chapter, although this is more of the mental kind.  
> *Trigger warning* for graphic description of the death of a minor.

* * *

My hand still ached something fierce, it felt tight and fat and useless, and worst of all I could still feel my missing fingers. I could feel the weight of them still on my hand, I could feel the air moving around them, I could feel the twisted nylon fibres as I tugged on a bow string, or the soft forgiving feel of them pinched against a cigarette filter, or warm and wet inside Beth. But when I went to rub them together, or scratch the hair on my chin, or brush them over Beth's shoulder, they weren't there.

Loss tugged at my guts as I deliberated over the fact that I was not entirely whole. The emotional pain of that hurt more than the physical pain when I brushed my sutured skin against a surface, or when using my ring finger to pull a trigger tore at the still healing flesh, or when making a fist pushed cartilage and bone against forming scar tissue . However, I would push through the pain gladly, when I could touch Beth's soft skin, knead my good fingers into her back, and tug her warmth against my chest.

My nights and days had been restless, spent scheming at ways to get us out of here, together and in one piece. My plans were always thrown out when logic took over emotion. We were trapped here, for as long as Negan wanted to play with us. Negan was too hard to get close enough to kill; he had too many body guards following him around. And even if we got past him, we had to get past the gates and past the sea of walkers that surrounded the fence. Even though I had been practicing with the Stryker, I was still pretty useless as a fighter. Out there without a vehicle and without weapons, Beth and I would be walker chow. Although sometimes I thought that might be preferable to the prison we were being held in.

Feeling hopeless and helpless, I turned to Beth for support and a cuddle or a kiss or something. Anything.

She was lying beside me on the worn and musty smelling mattress, curled into a ball, her sweaty unwashed hair fanning out across the yellowing fabric, her shoulder exposed by the loose collar of her tee. Her eyes were closed but her breathing, quick and steady, told me she was awake.

I pulled my left arm up, propping myself on my elbow and then ran my injured hand over her neck and upwards brushing her hair away, the softness of her skin making my hand feel instantly better. I crooked my neck and moved my lips to behind her ear, nipping at the sensitive spot that always made her buck and sigh and shudder.

"Don't!" She snapped, turning her head sharply away and knocking my nose with her jaw.

I pulled my head back an inch and rubbed my bandaged hand against my throbbing nose, "What the hell, Beth?"

Huffing, she shifted her weight around and rolled over, pushing her ass against me, as she tugged the blankets up over her shoulder.

Usually when she pressed her ass into me like that it meant she wanted me to give her something, but this morning seemed more like the last three mornings, where it was like she didn't even want me touching her.

"I'm tired." She grunted into the blanket that half covered her face.

"Japanese Crossword." I grunted in reply, throwing my head back down on the mattress and staring up at the pattern of grey mould on the ceiling.

She sat up and glared down at me angrily, clutching the blankets to her chest as if she had something she didn't want me to see under her shirt, something I hadn't seen dozens of times before.

"It's not that confusing Daryl." She spat angrily. "I've had to work double shifts to cover you remember?"

I hated it when she was all snarky at me like this. She had been this way off and on for the past three days, and I was sure I hadn't done anything to deserve it. Except maybe have my fingers cut off.

"Pfft." I lifted my mutilated hand and forced it onto her face. "Sure it ain't this?"

The tension in her face dropped and she sighed and frowned, and dropping her blanket, took my hand gently between hers and took it to her lips, kissing against the bandage that crossed the back of my hand.

"No. I really am tired."

I forced a smile, and tried to believe her. Four days ago she had been crazy horny, jumping all over me every moment she got, even having sex hours after I had my fingers removed, but now I considered myself lucky if I even got a hug.

Still feeling kind of hurt, but pushing past the self-sorrow, I leant forward and kissed her quickly on her jaw. "You can rest today. I'm goin' out."

My hand was never going to be the same, but I had been practicing with my Stryker and with my Busse, and I was confident I could go out there and not put myself or anyone else at risk. I had shown Wally what I could do last night and he had convinced Negan to let me go out on runs.

Beth pouted, and dropped her eyes in a way that almost looked like she was guilty. "Probably for the best."

I sat up, and put my good hand to her jaw and turned it upwards so I could kiss her on the lips. I let it linger for a moment, enjoying a second of intimacy that was hard to come by lately.

"Tomorrow, we'll go out together." I brushed my thumb across her still moist bottom lip. "Maybe get a chance to slip away."

Beth frowned and muttered almost inaudibly. "Yeah. Maybe."

I rolled off the mattress, stood and stretched my arms up to the ceiling, and then checked my hand, slipping a finger under the bandage to examine the red and tender flesh around the stitches that crossed over the place where my fingers used to be.

"Few more days and I can take the bandage off." I commented, looking down on Beth. She was staring out towards the half covered window.

"You a'right?"

"Mmm Hmm." She mumbled, her eyes not moving.

I stepped into my jeans and pulled them up, working the buckle with my thumb and ring-finger, something that felt awkward, but I was getting used to. I found my rank smelling shirt and vest and slipped them on. We hadn't had showers or a proper wash for four days, only being given enough water to drink. It was something I was used to, but Beth hated having oily skin and hair. I knelt on the floor beside her and brushed her slick blonde strands away from her forehead and kissed her on her clammy skin.

"Maybe spend the day in bed. Recover." I suggested.

"Think I will." She smiled up at me weakly. "Stay out of Negan's way today, okay?"

She didn't need to tell me that. The next time I saw him, I was sure I would be putting my Busse in his back, and I didn't think that was a good move for either of us.

I finished getting ready, pulling my boots on, sheathing my Busse and cocking my Stryker, ready for a bolt. It felt good to have my old buddy back, even though I knew I would miss the efficiency of the Airborne. I was eager to get out and fire at a moving target to see how much my damaged hand affected my accuracy.

I swung my Stryker over my shoulder and untied the blanket that secured the door closed with my thumb and ring finger.

"Love you, girl." I called to Beth as I backed out the door.

She turned her head and gave me a half smile over her bare shoulder. "Love you too." Her smile intensified, reaching her eyes as she examined me with the crossbow slung over my shoulder. "Go get 'em Dixon."

* * *

I was put on the East run that morning, and left with a group to check out a strip of shops and malls in nearby Maryland. Wally and I had taken to a long single level open mall that had been styled as if it belonged in Europe, with all terracotta tiles and stucco walls.

It was a welcome relief to be paired with Wally. I didn't trust a single other person here, and I didn't trust myself to not do something that would get me in trouble. Wally was always good company, and was always able to get a laugh or at least a tired groan out of me. But there was something off about him that morning. He was calling me Daryl rather than Wyatt, he was avoiding my eyes, and he hadn't told me one terrible joke.

"What's up with you? No jokes?" I nudged his hulking body that was learning over the shopping cart we were filling with supplies.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Didn't think you would be in the mood." He flicked his fingers towards my hand.

I shrugged. "Lost worse things than fingers. Gotta move on, right?"

"Yeah." He muttered, his eyes turning back to his boots. "I'm...ah…tryin' to save the good stuff. Got a late shift tonight. Tough crowd"

A shifting sound coming from a newsstand made us turn to see a walker, with his jacket caught on a magazine turning wire rack. Its dead eyes rested on us, its hands outstretched, pulling on the stand in an effort to get closer to us.

Wally pulled out his knife and stepped forward, but I put my hand out to stop him.

"Let me try somethin'."

I popped the snap on my sheathe and pulled out my Busse, and flicked it in my right hand so I was pinching the blade between my thumb, ring and pinkie finger. I took it up to my ear and with a flick of my wrist, flung it forward.

It spun through the air and hit the walker in the eye, but it didn't embed, and tumbled down the walker's chest and clanged to the floor.

"Shit." I muttered.

I was going to have to put more force into my throws to make up for the missing grip and balance my lost fingers had provided.

I took my Stryker off my shoulder, aimed, and pulled the trigger. It went straight through the middle of the walkers decaying forehead.

"'Least I can still do that." I turned to Wally looking for approval, shouldering over to the walker slumped on the ground.

Wally was still frowning, looking at the rusty coloured polished stone floor.

I walked over to the body of the walker to collect my Busse and bolt. "Man, what's wrong with you? I lost two fingers, you ain't got no joke for that?"

Wally looked up at me and eyed over me cautiously. "Those scars I saw on your back, they're old right?"

I kept my eyes on my Busse as I re-sheathed it. "Yep."

"You know, I switched my son once, when he was a kid. Can't rightly remember what for, but I remember feeling like the biggest ass whoever roamed the planet for doing it." He sighed long and loud. "Never even told him I was sorry."

Trying to take my mind off what he was telling me, I turned my head to look in the newsstand wondering if I should grab Beth some more magazines to read so she could put down that tattered ancient tome she had been carrying around. I eyed over the half empty racks and the mess of glossy pages on the floor trying to avoid eye contact, but I could feel Wally's gaze burning a hole in the back of my head.

Wally cleared his throat, "I didn't want to tell you while you were recovering."

That didn't sound good. Feeling the tension grow in my muscles, I dropped my Stryker and flexed them to cock it and then replaced the bolt. "What's that?"

"'The kid" He muttered. "I couldn't stay with her like I promised. She's been goin' off on runs with Negan." He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, letting his shoulders sag forward. "Alone."

The Stryker twitched in my grip, as a jolt of anxiety ran through me.

I pressed my hands into the fore-grip and trigger-guard firmly, trying to control the rage ripping through my body. "Is she fuckin' 'im?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

I instinctively clenched my jaw, biting on my lip. I could taste blood in my mouth, but I continued to bite down anyway, while I gripped my hands around my Stryker so hard that my fingers were aching and my arms were trembling.

Of course she was fucking him. That's why we were getting food and water. That's why Helen was coming to check on me every day and giving me pain killers and antibiotics. That's why Beth had gone from riding me like a juiced up jockey, to not even wanting me to breathe on her.

I turned my eyes slowly and deliberately towards Wally's, feeling them draw into an intense squint. "You need to give me your gate card."

Wally made a muffled grunting sound. "I can't. There are only three cards that open the gate. He'll know it was me who gave it to you. I would lose more than a couple of fingers." He flicked a hand towards me.

"You can come with us."

He shook his head again. "I can't. He would chase us down. One radio call, and the crew from the outposts would be all over us, that's if we even manage to get off the hotel grounds. And besides, I know this place. Out there." He sighed. "Everything's unknown."

"I gotta kill 'im then." I grunted as I paced back and forth across the empty hall.

Wally shook his head. "No-one can get close enough. There's always someone followin' him, he's got Lucille and he's a big fucker. A good fighter. And who's gonna lead this place if he's gone?"

"You." I said shortly. "You got a good head. People listen to you. You got heart."

Wally scoffed and twitched his lips into an uncomfortable looking smirk. "There are people stronger than me and crazier than Negan who would be lining up to kill me and take that place."

Knowing I wouldn't get help from the one person who I trusted made rage pulse through me. I dropped my Stryker to the ground, swung out my right hand and picked up the magazine rack and tossed it through the air. "Fucking, Fuck this shit!" I recoiled my throbbing hand back into my body, as the pain set in. "He's fucked her. He's fuckin' her. He's fuckin' with her head, and fuckin' with her..."

Not satisfied with the magazine stand's position on the floor, I stormed over to it, grabbed it up with two hands and smashed it into the ground until it was just clumps of twisted wire and crumpled paper.

Wally ran towards me pushing the cart, as if he thought he could protect himself with it. "I know it hurts. But I don't think love is meant to last in this world…"

He only angered me further. I could have killed him just for speaking to me. Luckily for him, some targets for my aggression were pouring out of a pharmacy, moaning and groaning and dragging their decaying shoes across the floor.

"Fuck you!" I called, as I scooped my Stryker of the floor and shot one in the head.

I dropped the stirrup to the ground and reloaded the bow, ignoring the pain in my hand.

"Fuck you!" I called again, shooting another one through its gaping mouth.

I continued the pattern until my bolts were empty and then took out my Busse and slammed it into the heads of the remaining walkers, sweating and swearing and spitting and wishing each one of them was Negan so I could kill him over and over again.

When they were finally all down, I tried to steady my heaving, soaking-wet body, by resting my hand and head on to the nearby display window, and I stared down to the satin covered floor inside.

The satin was littered with velvet boxes and cuffs, watches, loose pearls and single earrings that must have fallen when it was raided, back in the early days of the turn, when people thought valuables mattered.

I took a step back and looked up to the large overhead sign written in gold script. _Thomson's Pawn Shop_. I took a sharp turn and went straight for the entry with Wally chasing behind me.

"Where're you goin'." He called after me. "There aren't any guns left in there."

Kicking aside a wooden display that had toppled over the entry I grunted, "Ain't lookin' for no gun."

I kicked my way through the clutter of fishing rods, motorcycle helmets and ski boots until I had got to the display window. I went to my knees and sifted through the mess before me.

Wally approached cautiously behind me, "What're you lookin' for?"

I held up what I had found.

"A ring." I muttered as I turned the small gold band around, observing the way the light caught the diamond. "I'm gonna marry Beth."

* * *

I didn't know how I was going to ask her. I didn't even know how I was going to look her in the eye, when all I could think about was Negan's dick in her.

It wouldn't be the ideal way to propose to a girl. It wouldn't even be romantic. It wouldn't even be done out of love. Not that I didn't love the girl, despite what she had done, I knew she had done it for us. For me. I only wanted to marry her in the hope it would be enough to make Negan keep his filthy hands off her, until I figured out a way to cut them off at the wrist.

We had gone back to the hotel to change shifts, and I hoped I would have enough time to run upstairs and propose to her, and get Negan's fake minister to throw some words together so I would at least know she was safe before I went out again. But of course that would have been all too easy.

As soon as I had stepped out the truck, Negan was grabbing me and dragging me back out on another trade run, forcing me to sit up front with him in the truck's cab.

All I could do was think of how bad it could be if I tried to kill him, here in the truck. Worst thing, if I failed, he would go back and do something awful to Beth. If I succeeded, and then got killed by his men, then they would probably _all_ do awful things to her. If I managed to kill them all, which was unlikely, then I would have to get through the men back at the hotel, and then we would be on the run with men from the outposts tracking us down.

Negan, finished crooning to his song on the car stereo, turned it down, and looked to me with that stupid ugly grin on his face.

I wanted to knock out those smiling teeth. I wanted to blacken those eyes that had seen Beth's naked body. I wanted to fatten that lip that had touched her mouth. I wanted to cut out the tongue that had tasted her. I wanted to rip the dick off that had been inside her. But all I could do was sit patiently and scheme.

"Good to see you're ready to keep on keepin' on."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." I grunted.

_Like kill the man who fucks his girl._

He squinted an eye and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You didn't think that was personal, did you, That nonsense with your fingers?"

I shrugged and turned my murderous eyes to look out the window towards the green fields. It looked like we were going out to another farm.

"I like you Daryl. Fuck, you're the first person to stand up to me in months!" He chuckled to himself. "It was kind of invigorating. You got heart, and you got fucking passion. I like that in my men. But you gotta follow orders." He tapped his finger on my bandage, sending searing pain through my hand, but I bit my lip and ignored it. "This is just a constant reminder."

I muttered something to myself. I wasn't even sure what it was. I hate you. Or I'm going to kill you. Or I'm going to shove a spoon up your ass and then scoop out your eyeballs with it.

We turned down a familiar looking dirt road, and approached a familiar looking white ranch house, surrounded by a familiar looking wire fence.

"What're we doing back here?" I asked as I eyed over the familiar terrified looking teens who opened the gate for us.

"I've got some loose ends to…tie up."

I shuddered, knowing he was planning to put on some kind of rope show again. Maybe this time I would be the one with the rope around my neck. I brushed my hand over my Busse. If I was going down anyway, I would be sure to take Negan with me.

We parked the truck and then got out and, followed by Negan's men, walked over to Kenneth who was standing warily on his porch, his aging hand clutching to the weather worn timber post by the steps.

"We gave you all our males, Negan. We don't have any more to give." Kenneth called down to us as we approached.

"Relax." Negan waved a hand as if he were brushing something away. "I'm not here for Bacon."

He nudged me in my back and I stepped forward.

"Daryl has something to say."

I looked to Negan dumbfounded. "What?"

"Get your son out here, Kenneth. Daryl wants to talk to him."

Kenneth hesitated and Negan took a threatening step toward him, swinging Lucille an inch from his nose. "I said fucking now."

As if the kid had been listening from inside, he stepped through the screeching screen door and let it slam behind him. He rubbed his elbows nervously and then tenderly touched his throat that was still purple where the rope had been tied before.

Negan smiled at the kid and took to a knee before him. "Do you remember this man?" He said thumbing to me over his shoulder.

The kid's eyes flicked up to me nervously and then he nodded.

"Did he save you?" Negan asked the kid

The kid hesitated for a moment, chewed the corner of his lip and then nodded.

"Is he your hero?"

The kid shrugged and then nodded.

Negan turned to me. "What have you got to say to the kid, Daryl?"

"I don't fuckin' know." I said with a shrug.

"You think you should apologise?"

I hesitated. "…For what?"

"For killing him."

And with that Troy leapt out from behind me and grabbed the kid by his arm. He tried to struggle but was no match for Troy's meaty tree trunk arms. He squealed for his mother and she came racing out, and joined in with his squealing when she saw what was happening.

"Please Negan." Kenneth begged, falling to his knees. "Don't hurt my boy, Please."

"I'm not hurting him, Daryl is." Negan smiled at me.

Last time I intervened I lost some fingers, and that was supposed to be a soft punishment. All I could do was watch as, with his free hand, Troy tossed the rope over the crossbeam just as before, and looped the noose around the kids head.

"Please." Kenneth pleaded again.

Troy tugged back on the rope lifting the kid high of the ground this time, his legs going stiff, toes pointed down as they searched for ground.

"No!" Kenneth wailed, taking a furious step towards Negan. Negan swung Lucille and smashed the man in the head, sending him flying into the timber cladding of the house. He slid to the ground, smearing blood across the white paint. His slack white face stared up at me from the puddle of blood pooling around him.

"Self-defence." Negan said with a shrug as he pointed to the body.

The mother's wails turned into sobs, and more people came out from tents and trailers to watch the show.

Negan turned to me, bloody Lucille resting on his shoulder. "What do you think, Daryl, will it be quicker or longer than last time?" He pointed towards the blue faced kid. "Do you think his little carotids were toughened or weakened by his last ordeal?"

I couldn't look at his face; I dropped my eyes to his boots, swaying to and fro and kicking weakly every now and then.

"Someone get a watch out and time it for me." Negan called to the crowd behind me.

I clenched my fists and chewed on my lip. Wanting to do something, _Needing_ to do something, but knowing I couldn't. I was sure Negan would give me the ultimate punishment if I messed up again. And I knew that ultimate punishment would involve Beth.

"Is he still your hero?" Negan called to the kid, who spluttered in reply.

I watched as his tiny limbs writhed and rippled before me. Counting how many flickers and shudders there were every few seconds. The number counted dwindled every round. Then after what seemed like forever, piss soaked through the boy's pants, dripped down his exposed shins, and disappeared into his boots.

"Is he your hero now?" Negan called again as the spluttering slowed, turned to tiny gasping sighs and then finally stopped.

I looked back to the kids face, swollen and purple, with a fat tongue poking out between his colourless lips.

Laughing, Troy let go of his end of the rope and the body fell to the timbers of the porch like a sack of potatoes. The mother threw herself on top and began weeping into her son's lifeless body.

It was a choice between the kid and Beth. I may have made the wrong one, but I was sure I was going to hell no matter what I did.

"How long was that?" Negan called over his shoulder.

"Two minutes sixteen seconds." A voice, void of emotion, called from among Negan's underlings.

"Hmm." Negan tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin. "Guess it was a lot fucking longer than thirty seconds."

He unexpectedly began howling with laughter, throwing his head back in the air, and letting his whole body tremble. "You know what's fucking hilarious?" He wiped tears from his eyes. "…if you didn't intervene last time, they probably could have got the truck packed up with my bacon before the kid died. Fuck I wouldn't even be here now, punishing you for making me look like a cock. So really this is all your fucking fault." He began howling with laughter again.

I looked down to the boy's mother who was kneeling red faced and silent before me, staring at me like I should have done something.

I should have.

"Thought you didn't kill kids." I muttered, turning to Negan.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Kids. You said you didn't kill 'em."

Negan slipped the blood covered bat off his shoulder and pushed at the kids limp foot with the end of it.

"Firstly I didn't kill him. You did. Secondly, a teenager isn't a kid. They'll spend seven fucking years of their life trying to prove that to you." His eye flinched as if he had just thought of something and he smirked at me. "Or are you tryin' to tell me you've been sticking your dick in to a kid this whole time?"

I clenched my jaw and looked down to my boots.

_There are no kids in this shit-hole world no more._

* * *

I felt utterly crushed. I wanted Beth to take me in her arms and tell me everything was okay. I wanted to be back at the school with Mix and Austin and the rest of the kids. I wanted to be back at the prison with my family. I even wanted to be back at home with my dad. I wanted out of this hell hole, and I wanted out tonight.

Of all the shit I had witnessed over the past couple of years ─Sophia as a walker, My brother, Hershel losing his head, what had happen to Beth, losing the kids in the bus─ Watching a kid die because of my dumb mistake was right up there among the worst. I couldn't get the image of his swollen face out of my mind.

I probably would have taken poison from the devil himself, if it would help burn that picture away.

So when Negan offered to get me a drink that night back at the hotel I welcomed it, hoping it would help me think straight, and come up with a workable plan of escape.

The lounge was filled with drunks and naked girls, and was rowdier than the last time I had been here. I guessed it was because everyone was getting off the evening shift, and it was only two hours away from the witching hour.

The room was dimly lit, only by candles that covered the bar and the glass display cabinets, but judging by the sounds I could hear, I was sure people were fucking in the shadows.

Keeping my eyes down I slipped onto the stool beside Negan, who was already running his hands all over the same girl as before, Audrina, pushing his fingers into her over-touched flesh. I tried not to look at him or what he was doing. I just wanted to get my drink, and go and find Beth.

"How were the runs today?" Negan asked the bartender as he filled two glasses with whiskey. Why he was asking the bar tender about runs, I had no idea.

"Good." The balding middle aged man replied with a slow nod.

"You get everything I asked for?"

"Yes." The bartender replied with certainty.

"Get all the supplies from the clinic?"

The bartender nodded. "Mmm Hmm."

"Great!" Negan pushed the glass towards me. "Drink up, Daryl."

I gripped the glass in my damaged hand and tossed it back into my mouth, swallowing it all in one gulp, and welcoming the warmth it immediately brought to me.

"You did good today, Daryl." Negan said as he sipped on his whiskey. "Real good."

I shrugged my shoulders and eyed the barkeeper asking for more. The kid's face was still on my mind.

"You did _so_ good. I'm going to reward you."

"You gonna let us go?" I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"No." He smiled and shook his head. "I'm gonna get Honey to suck your dick."

My eyes left the glass and went to Negan's face. Stern and serious.

"No Thankyou." I said firmly

Negan turned to Audrina. "Suck his dick, Honey."

Audrina obediently dropped to her knees before me and started tugging at my belt.

I slapped her hand away weakly, both my hands suddenly feeling swollen and tight.

"Fffuck off."

Negan chuckled. "You don't need to worry about being faithful. You're not married. And neither is Beth."

"Fffuck y…you." I didn't need that second drink. This one was hitting me fast. I was already slurring my words.

"She's been singing to me every day since you lost your fingers." He whistled with amusement. "Love it when she hits those high notes."

My hand slipped from my belt and went to the leather of my sheath, ready to grab my Busse. Emotion was taking over logic here. I hated him so much I had to kill him. Now. Even if it meant me dying. I would rather be dead than live this kind of torment, and I would just have to take the chance and hope that Beth would be safe once Negan was gone.

My numb fingers slipped against the small circular snap, I couldn't get a grip on it. It was like my hands were suddenly too weak to even pop it open. My hand fell from my sheath and brushed against my pocket, pressing against the ring under the fabric. I shouldn't have bothered trying to drill out my memories with booze. I should have gone straight upstairs and got Beth to marry me.

"Let her suck your dick, Daryl." Negan continued, nodding down to Audrina who was looking up at me with her sad hollow eyes and swollen lips pursed, a hint of blood spatter could be seen at the crease of her mouth. Would this be Beth's fate?

"…No." I had to force the word out; my mouth felt like it was full off loose teeth.

"Would you rather I cut it off?"

I slowly covered my dick with my ball-of-fluff hands. Something wasn't right. A drink never hit me this hard before.

Negan's laugh echoed through my ears. "Relax Daryl, I'm just kidding." He stroked his hand across Audrina's golden brown hair, and she looked up at him obediently like she was his pet. "If I cut if off, Honey would have nothing to fuck, would you Honey?"

I tried to lift my head enough to look into his dark and scheming eyes, trying to figure out if he was being literal.

"You see Beth just needs a little push…"He nudged me with his foot and I toppled off the stool falling on top of the kneeling Audrina. "And she'll have no fucks to give for you…All fucks will be reserved for me. "

"Ff-f-f" I spluttered, as I tried to lift my head off Audrina's shoulder. I wasn't drunk. I had been given something. Opiate. Benzos. Tranqs. Whiteys. Goop. Kit Ket. Something that meant I couldn't move my legs, couldn't speak…couldn't fight.

"Honey's gonna take you and fuck you now." Negan's voice bubbled through the air.

The last thing I remembered was Negan's howling laughter, bouncing through my inflated, throbbing head, and the sticky, grimy floor approaching my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I know, another cliffhanger! and I really wanted to do a double update, but chapter 7 is pretty full on so it's taking more time than expected. Hope to have it up in the next couple of days.


	7. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don't freak out half way through! Read til the end. Trust me. Have a little faith ;)

* * *

The room had clearly been prepared for my arrival. Lit candles covered the desk, bathing the room with warm, orange, dancing light. The sheets on the big double bed were freshly washed and scented like lavender and looked soft as clouds. The bathroom, with a working toilet and sink, had a fresh bar of soap and washcloth hooked nearby that was screaming to be rubbed all over my grime covered body. The carpet was free from stains, there was no smell of urine or mould, and the wallpaper was still neat on the walls. Best of all the view of the Washington lights could once again be seen through the fully intact window. The view of hope.

Sometime after dinner, I had been reading my book by candlelight in our dank and dank first floor room, when Carson had knocked at my door. He had told me that Daryl had done something to impress Negan and as reward we had been given a room back on the fourth floor. The dirty stinking ruins of the first floor didn't really bother me that much, and I did worry about what Daryl had done to impress a man like Negan. But regardless, I had collected our belongings and made my way back up to the fourth floor.

I had been pretty nasty to Daryl over the last few days. It was hard to be loving with him when I had spent the whole day with someone who made me feel awful inside, and left me feeling emotionally exhausted. And it was hard to be loving when I was keeping secrets from him. I didn't want Daryl knowing that I had spent most of my days alone with Negan. I knew he would jump to conclusions, and get aggressive, and probably do something stupid to get himself hurt.

Now that I had a whole day away from Negan I was able to think clearly again, and I was ready to make up to Daryl for the nastiness over the past few days.

After giving my hair a much needed wash in the basin, I dressed in my sleeping shorts and tee and waited for Daryl to return sitting on the end of the bed ready to throw myself into his arms when he opened the door. I would apologise, and I would confess to what had been bothering me. And then we could put our heads together and figure out a way to get out of here.

It had been several hours since dinner, and I believed it to be close to ten o'clock and Daryl's quitting time, but as the time began to drag I gave up waiting patiently for him, and pulled out the book I had been reading for the last few days, rolled on to my belly and opened to the page I had folded to keep my place.

The book was titled _'The prince'_ , written by some ancient Italian author named _Machiavelli_. I found it hard to follow, with most of the language conventions used going right over my head, but I got the general gist of it. To be a successful leader, you had to be brutal. No surprise of why Negan had given it to me.

After finishing a chapter about ancient politics there was a knock on the door. It startled me and made me jump at first, then excited about seeing Daryl, I bounced off the bed, leapt across the floor and swung the door open, smiling widely with anticipation.

"Oh." I muttered when my eyes rested on the large frame of Negan taking up the doorway.

I sighed and then stepped away from the door, not the slightest bit concerned that we were alone together. It seemed as though he had succeeded in making me feel comfortable around him.

Three whole days I had spent with him exploring parts of Maryland and Virginia. We had gone on a number of runs, for supplies, for gas. Some for little else than showing me the sights. Negan seemed almost normal at times, if you ignored the foul mouth. He had shown me a much softer side, speaking of his childhood pets and his mother, and he almost had me convinced that he was human after all.

He had never forced me to do anything I didn't want, although he had convinced me to sing him plenty of songs. He insisting that I would eventually give him what he wanted of my own free will. Of course that would never happen. Because no matter what he did, we were still prisoners here, and he had still taken Daryl's fingers off.

"What do you want?" I asked, smiling and trying to mask the disappointment in my voice.

Negan stepped forward through the doorway and rested his arm on the frame, "I just wanted to see how you were settling into your room."

I crossed my arms over my chest as I noticed his eyes drifting over my tee. I wasn't wearing a bra, and I was certain he could tell. "Fine. Thank you." I replied pleasantly.

Even with him leering at me, I felt serenely calm and unthreatened.

Negan eyed over the book I had left open on the bed. "Enjoying the book?"

I glanced over my shoulder towards the book and then back to Negan. "It's okay."

"It hasn't been easy keeping all these people safe and fed and in order over the past year or so. We've all had to do things were not proud of."

I nodded. "I know."

Rick had killed his best friend. Carol had killed a child. Joe had kept sex slaves. Gareth had eaten human flesh. In comparison removing fingers didn't really seem that bad…but they were _Daryl's_ fingers.

Negan shifted his weight on the frame and edged closer to me. "I sure missed you today. I missed all your songs. I always feel so much better when you're singing to me." He flashed me a wide toothy grin. "Do you want to sing me another?"

I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes before clearing my throat and singing him the most simple song I could think of.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,_

_you make me happy when skies are grey,_

_you'll never know, dear, how much I love you…_

I fixed my eyes carefully on to Negan's

_please don't take my sun shine away._

A sly smile slowly grew on Negan's square face _._ "And where is your sunshine tonight _?"_

I stood on my tip toes and tried to peer over Negan's shoulder, chewing on my lip anxiously as my eyes rested on nothing but empty hallway.

"What's the matter, honey?" Negan asked shifting into my view.

I sighed and turned my eyes back to Negan's face. "He isn't back yet."

Negan rubbed his chin and hummed theatrically. "Odd. We got in from the run hours ago. We went to the lounge to have a drink, to celebrate the good work Daryl did, but Daryl left hours ago..."

I studied Negan's face, solid as stone. "Well he hasn't come to the room."

Negan continued to rub his hairless chin. "He was pretty fucking drunk… one of my girls offered to help him to his room."

My heart jolted in my chest. "Daryl?"

Negan nodded, a grin on his face. "Yeah."

"With one of your girls?"

Negan shrugged. "Men have needs."

"He has me." I replied firmly.

Negan mumbled a thoughtful sound. "You know I told him about where we had been. About our little _dates_. He wasn't happy. Maybe he thought it best to just give in. Let the better man win."

I struggled to hold back a hateful sneer. I could just imagine the lies he told to get Daryl's imagination working overtime.

"You know I _am_ the better man. I will always be able to keep you safe, fed, clean."

I dropped my eyes to the floor thinking Daryl could do all those things too, if Negan would ever let us go.

"Maybe he didn't want to come back here and face you?" Negan continued. "Maybe he's still in the old room."

I turned away as Negan's lips curled into a shady looking smirk, and grabbed for a sweater.

I tugged it over my head, and when it finally had popped through the collar, Negan was strolling down the hall whistling along to the tune of the song I had just sung him.

* * *

I approached the door to room one-zero-six cautiously, anxiety knotted in my stomach, wondering what exactly I would find inside. I went to knock on the door, but remembering I still had the card, I swiped it on the reader, making the door click to signify it was unlocked, and I pushed the door open.

The first thing I noticed was the strong odour of alcohol. It overwhelmed all the other smells in the room, or mould and walker rot. The second thing I noticed was the single candle burning on the window sill, and casting dark shadows throughout the room.

I stood in the doorway, turning my eyes to where I could see the dark form on the mattress and waited for my eyes to adjust.

The form on the bed was definitely female. Her large dark nipples stood out against her much fairer skin, and the light danced over curvy feminine hips. I almost covered my eyes in embarrassment, thinking, hoping, I had walked in on a stranger, but then I noticed the three fingered hand resting on the woman's thigh.

That was Daryl lying naked in bed with that woman.

My first reaction would have been to scream, or run, or hit something or someone, but I calmly cleared my throat.

The woman turned and shot up, revealing an attractive face with big brown eyes and a tumble of golden hair. I had seen her before, but I didn't know her name.

"I'm so sorry." The woman sputtered as she untangled herself from Daryl's loose embrace.

The woman flailed her hands around on the ground beside the mattress, collecting clothing, then gripping it all to her chest she wriggled herself up to a stand.

"He made me do it." She muttered as she edged her way past me and disappeared out the door and down the hallway, completely naked, with only the clothing in her hands to cover herself.

Gritting my teeth I slammed the door furiously behind her and stalked over to Daryl's sleeping form. He was snoring quite loudly, mouth slack, whiskered chin vibrating.

I poked him with my boot, still fuming about what I had just seen. "Daryl!" I growled down at him.

He whimpered a little, squeezed his eyes together and rolled to his side.

I kicked him harder. "Daryl!"

He opened one eye and looked up at me. "Mmm Beth?" He muttered.

"Yes." I snarled. "What the hell is goin' on here?"

He closed his eyes again and pressed his face into the mattress. "Uhh hhnn …You f-fucked…Negan?"

"What?"

"Uhn…she…she wanted to..."

"She wanted to what?" I growled, scanning over Daryl's naked body and then to the clothes in a neat pile by the door beside his crossbow and knife sheath. The room stank of whiskey, but oddly enough Daryl seemed to only smell of sweat.

"Fuck." Daryl muttered into the fabric of the mattress.

I took a step back from him, finding myself breathing deeply in anger and frustration, and looked to the door.

He thought I was some dumb little girl who didn't know how the world worked. He was wrong to underestimate me, and he was going to pay for this.

"Stay here!" I growled down at Daryl, before reaching towards his pile of clothes.

"w-where…" he muttered, struggling to lift his head.

"Just stay here" I cut him off firmly, tossing his clothes over his dazed looking face. "...and put some damn cloths on!"

* * *

The fifth floor was lavishly decorated with paintings and sculptures and richly embroidered rugs. It was lit up by a row of overhead chandeliers, glowing so brightly, you would think electricity was an easy thing to come by. It was such a ridiculously stark contrast to the world outside, Negan would be living in his own little fantasy land up here, behaving as if he were some sort of renaissance prince, ready to conquer the world.

I made my way down the hall, stepping over the plush carpet and passing by two ornately engraved doors . I figured those rooms belonged to Negan's wives. At the end of the hall two men stood outside wooden double doors with ' _penthouse suite'_ etched into them.

The two ran their eyes over me with smiles on their faces as I approached. I tugged down the edges of Daryl's poncho in an effort to cover my thighs, and anything else that could be seen, and the men both sniggered at my movement.

Stopping before them, I cleared my throat and spoke as brave as my nerves would allow me. "I'm here to see Negan."

One of them nodded and without taking his eyes from me he knocked on the door to his side.

After a moment both of the doors were swung wide open revealing Negan in his untied satin robe.

"This better be fucking good. I had a pussy in each hand and a mouth on my dick." He had an angry snarl on his face as he looked at his men, but the his expression changed when he caught sight of me.

"Well if it isn't my little song bird." He stood back from the door and motioned me in with a wave of his arm and a slight bow. "Won't you come in?"

I forced a smile onto my face and then marched myself into the devil's lair. And a devils lair was exactly what it looked like.

The entire room glowed red like the pits of hell, lit by several lamps covered with blood red covered shades. The large room consisted of a sleeping area on a large platform, surrounded by thick curtains that circled the entire room. The bed was enormous. Two or three times the size of a double bed, and by the way the light gleamed off the sheets I would say they were made of satin.

There was a polished black stone bar to the side of the door. With an open crystal bottle half filled with copper coloured liquor, and three empty scotch glasses.

The living area was furnished with plush looking day beds with women I recognised as Negan's wives, looking red and flustered, lounging over them wearing something very similar to what I was wearing.

They watched me warily, shifting into upright positions as I stepped into the room.

Negan's heavy hot hands dropped onto my shoulders, making me flinch. "Can I take your…" he tugged at the fraying edges of Daryl's poncho "…whatever this is?"

I took a careful step away from him, gripping the poncho to my body.

"Can I talk to you." I eyed over his wives. "alone?"

With a grin Negan snapped his fingers and waved everyone to the door, and the women all clamoured to their feet and made for the doorway. They almost looked relieved as they disappeared through the doorway.

The door was pulled shut behind them by Negan's men, and Negan turned his focus back to me, while backing towards the bar. "can I get you a drink?"

A drink would help with my nerves right now, but I needed all my wits and willpower to do what I planned to do with Negan so I shook my head. "No thank you. I don't really drink."

He shrugged and stepped back towards me. "What do you want to talk to me about, honey?"

I closed my eyes and swallowed back my anticipation and then tugged Daryl's poncho up and over my head and let it drop to the floor.

"I decided you were right. Daryl isn't the man I thought he was, and he's not the one to keep me safe in this world. I need someone stronger. I need someone like you."

Negan eyed over me slowly, taking in my appearance

I had worn the fuchsia underwear set Mandy had given me. Although the pattern of satin and lace looked like blooded veins against my pale skin in this light. I had added the stocking and suspenders to the outfit for added effect. They had taken me nearly twenty minutes to figure out, but if sexy was what I was going for, they defiantly helped me achieve that.

"So I thought I should take you up on your offer. Keep myself safe."

"You look…good enough to eat." Negan said, licking his lips. "I knew you would look good in that colour."

"You got the underwear for me?"

He nodded, and stepped towards me, removing the underwear with his eyes. "Sure did. Looks like I guessed the size of your titties pretty well."

I fought the urge to cover myself. There was no point in being modest now. Instead I smiled and put my hands on my hips, trying to look sexy, and most likely failing. I had never had to look sexy for anyone before, except Daryl, and that always came easily. This was something much harder.

Negan bit down on his bottom lip, and dropped his hands onto my bare shoulders, and then ran them down over my breasts then to my waist and rested them on top of my own hands placed on my hips.

His eyes dropped from my breasts down to my feet. "Not sure about the footwear though. I probably should have got you some heels."

I looked down to my feet. "I like my boots. They give me a sense of…security."

He shrugged. "Whatever. I won't be fucking your feet."

He moved his hands to my jaw and tugged my face upwards, lifting me to my toes and angling my face so that our lips could meet and he roughly bit down on my bottom lip, and muffled my cry with his wet hungry mouth.

I pulled my head away from his hold and turned towards the door.

"Do you think you could tell those guys to leave…I'm a little self-conscious… I can…"I huffed nervously and tossed my shoulders. "…get a little noisy."

He stepped away from me and turned to the door. "Of course. I've heard you myself. Wouldn't want you to hold back."

Grinning to himself he crossed the room and three long strides and swung the door open.

"You two have an hour off." He turned back towards me and winked, and I smiled back at him. "Actually make that two hours."

One of the men peered in at me cautiously.

"You sure you'll be okay, sir?"

Negan chuckled boisterously and thumbed over his shoulder towards me. "Will I be okay? Look at her. She's the fucking size of a gold fish." He extended his hand and pointed over towards the bedside table, where his bat was resting. "And I've got my mistress here if she tries anything funny."

The men shrugged and stepped away from the door, and Negan slammed the door shut, shrugged his robe onto the floor, and marched across the room back to me.

In one sweep of his arm he collected me off the floor and carried me back towards the bed and dropped me down on the edge.

My heart thumped, my hairs stood on end, my hands trembled. I was really going to do this.

Negan crawled over me, pressing me back on to the smooth satin sheets. His hot and wet mouth smeared all over my chest and abdomen, while his hands fumbled at the clasp on my bra.

"Hold on there." I gasped, pushing his strong arms away from me. "I'm real nervous. We gotta take this slow."

I slipped out from underneath him, stood and then pushed his thighs down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Let me explore this a bit first. Get used to the idea."

I dropped down to my knees in front of him, pushing his knees to the side so I could get closer.

Negan tucked his hands behind his head and smiled at me, amused. "Explore away."

I licked my lips in anticipation, took a deep breath and moved my hands down along his thighs, heading towards his erect shaft.

I wrapped my left hand delicately around his shaft, slowly slid it down to the base, and carefully parted my lips, looking up at Negan gauging his response.

"Your hands are so soft." Negan murmured, pressing his eyes closed and leaning back on the bed. "Bet those lips will be too."

Mandy had said there were two types of women who survived in this world. The ones who killed, and the ones who used what was between their legs. Now I knew which one I was.

My right hand slid down my calf, slipped between the nylon stocking and the leather of my boot, and gripped around my knife.

"They are. The hands of a killer."

In one swift movement, I popped my knife open and slammed the blade into the base of Negan's shaft with a satisfying crunch.

That was just for fun.

Wailing, Negan grabbed for his bleeding shaft , and threw himself back on the bed.

I swiftly scrambled on to the bed beside him, took my blade in two hands and went to slam it into his head, but when I was only inches away, Negan blocked the motion with his hand, and my knife stabbed through his palm instead.

"You fucking, Bitch!" He shrilled, as he grabbed me by the shoulders and tossed me on to the bed straddling above me. "I was gonna fuck you in all your holes with my dick, but now it looks like I'll have to use your little fucking knife instead."

He wrestled with me, prying his fingers into my palm, the slick and sticky blood making it hard to get a good grip.

I curled my foot back, and with a grunt, sent my boot flying into his exposed and bleeding genitals, feeling and hearing the pop at the same time.

Negan let out an animal-like wail and dropped face first into the bed, sticking his behind up in the air and grabbing for the place I had just exploded with my boot.

I slipped out from under him, while he wailed into the pillow, and rocked form side to side in agony.

"You thought giving Daryl to that woman would hurt me, and I would get comfort in _you_?" I questioned him in a cool and level voice, as I stood on the floor to face him. "You just gave me a believable excuse to get close to you."

I stepped around the bed and grabbed the white swipe card sitting beside the cylindrical red lamp on the bedside table. And then turned back to the moaning naked figure on the bed. "I've cut my own wrists. I've been raped. I've lost my children. I've lost my family. There's nothing _you_ could do that would make me lose my faith. Or my love."

He was struggling into an all fours position now, reaching to the side of the bed for his bat, his face twisted in a furious snarl.

I swung my blade out and embedded it into his arched throat, and beamed, delighted, when he fell back to the bed, fumbling at the blade with his blood soaked fingers.

"You had such a grand scheme to get me to fuck you." I stomped my boot into his exposed genitals one more time for my own pleasure, and he continued to choke and gasp taking one hand to his shrivelled blood drained shaft, while the other tried to pull at the knife in his throat.

"So tell me." I sing-songed in my sweetest possible voice. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

I wanted to stay there and watch him slowly fade away, and then turn into a walker, and then I could kill him all over again, but I knew I didn't have the time, so I grabbed up Daryl's poncho, slipped it over my head, and left the gasping, bleeding, over-confident bastard laying on his oversized bed, choking to death on his own blood.

* * *

The fifth floor hallway was still empty when I entered it the only sign of life coming from the flickering light of the chandelier. I carefully closed the door to the penthouse behind me, and then wiped away the finger smears of blood with the edge of Daryl's poncho, trying to hide the evidence. With any luck, no-one would check on him for a few hours, when Daryl and I would be long gone.

I didn't need to kill Negan. My life wasn't in danger. Daryl's life wasn't in danger. It was only our minds that he was messing with, and that didn't really warrant a death. But I hated him for what he did to Daryl, and for trying to manipulate us, and for keeping us prisoner.

I killed him because I wanted to.

I tugged down on the poncho, and stuck my blood covered hands inside, and scurried off down the hall and towards the stairs, only stopping for a minute to listen to the laughter coming from Negan;s wives rooms. They either didn't hear anything, or they did, and they were celebrating.

I turned into the stairwell and galloped down the stairs at first, taking them two at a time, keeping in time with my thudding heartbeat. The speed was so fast, that I was sure if I didn't keep moving my feet, I would end up tumbling down the stairs head first. It was only the voices echoing up the stairwell that made me slow. I took a few deep breaths to control my panting and then casually descended the next flight of stairs.

Two of Negan's men, different from those guarding the door, had a single girl pressed up against the concrete wall. They reeked of alcohol, and they looked as if they were doing things to her that were better left for the bedroom, but I tried not to examine the scene to closely.

With my eyes down I slipped past them and made my way to the first floor entry.

This hall was much darker than the fifth floor. With only a handful of candles lighting the way. Satisfied the hall was clear, I hurtled down it and straight to Daryl's room, swiped the card and pushed the door open.

The room was dark, the candle had gone out. The only light was a dull beam coming from the open door that cast across Daryl sitting on the mattress, eyes downcast and looking sullen. He had re-dressed somewhat. His jeans were on, belt unbuckled. His shirt and vest were on, open and unbuttoned. His boots were on but unlaced. And He had his bow across his lap and his knife back in its sheath at his hip.

I had left my knife in Negan's throat and my handgun up in the room on the fourth floor. This was all we were going to have to defend ourselves with once we got out.

Daryl looked up at me with dazed and confused eyes. Whatever they had given him to make him go to bed with that women hadn't entirely worn off yet.

I dropped before him and rapidly helped him tie up his laces.

"I didn't fuck 'er, Beth." He muttered, keeping his shadowed eyes down.

"I know." I replied, tugging at his laces forcefully.

"I couldn't of, I was too messed up."

"I know." I repeated. "I read the signs. This room doesn't smell like anyone's been havin' sex in it. You didn't have a room key. You don't snore. You would never let yourself get so drunk that you wouldn't respond to someone moving next to you, or opening the door, or slamming the door. You would never sleep with your weapons so far away. And you would _never_ sleep with another woman."

Daryl smiled as he listened to everything I had picked up on, and I returned the smile. "Are you gonna be able to run?"

Daryl nodded slowly, and then mumbled. "…Negan?"

He only said one word but I knew what he was asking.

"I didn't have sex with him." I grabbed him by his hands and tugged him to his feet, steadying him as he swayed like a weak and spindly birch in the wind. "But I sure as hell fucked him."

Daryl's eyes creased as he looked over me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the sheer black nylon that covered my knees. "What the hell did you do?"

"Never mind." I said as I picked up his crossbow, attached his knife sheath to his belt and then tugged on the hem of his open shirt in an effort to get him to follow.

"Just a sec." Daryl held up his bandaged hand and I imagined he would've been holding up his index finger. If he had one. He hunched himself over, pressing his hands to his knees, and then his shoulders began heaving. I knew what was coming, and took a step back just before the lumpy stream of puke shot out of his mouth and onto the already filthy floor.

When he had finished hurling, he spat and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and grabbed for an almost empty bottle of water from the ground, and swirled it around his mouth. After spitting it out he extended his bandaged hand out to me and flicked his good fingers up, indicating he wanted his crossbow back.

"You gonna be okay to use it?" I asked cautiously, eyeing over his stomach contents on the floor.

"I will now." He took the bow, and with a crack of his neck and a stretch of his shoulders followed me out the door, closing it behind him to hide evidence we had been and gone.

We made our way quickly down the stairwell, being extra careful with Daryl who still swayed a little, although he tried his best to hide it.

I stopped short when we got to the glass door that led out to the garage, staring at the two men with rifles on their shoulders leaning against the wall by the door. I had forgotten to consider all aspects of this escape, like getting through the guards at the gate, but there was no turning back now.

Silently I pushed back on Daryl's chest urging him up the stairs.

We exited onto the ground floor, and scampered through the hallway avoiding the foyer area and made our way towards the laundry room stairway.

As I had hoped, the second entry to the garage was not manned, but I could still hear voices resonating through the glass panelled door.

Taking over, Daryl pushed my back against the wall and crawling forward with his bow at the ready. He watched the garage for a moment and then reached up and tugged lightly on the handle.

He turned back to me with concern on his face. "locked." He whispered.

I reached into my boot and pulled out Negan's swipe card. He beamed at me proudly and then took it from me, swiped it on the panel, tucked the card back into his pocket and then slowly, carefully pulled the handle down fully.

"When I open the door, you run for the Nissan. Got it?"

I nodded looking to the silver coloured truck to the side of the laundry entrance, hidden mostly in shadow. I readied myself, pushing up on my toes with my fingers to the ground.

He pushed the door open, and I slipped through the narrow opening, scurried along the concrete floor and then flattened myself on the ground once I had reached my target.

Seconds later Daryl was moving in beside me his breathing quick, but low and steady.

I tried to control my own breathing, hoping it wouldn't echo through the almost empty parking garage and alert anyone to our presence.

From our position we could only see half of the garage. We couldn't see the entrance to the main stairwell, or the outside gate, but there were plenty of vehicles parked to cover our path to escape.

We both listened carefully to the voices that travelled through the open space, bouncing off concrete and steel alike. They were happy voices. Chatty voices. As far as I could tell, Negan hadn't been found yet.

We moved carefully from car to car, keeping low to the ground, with Daryl behind me watching my back. When we came up to the view of two men leaning against a red suburban, smoking cigarettes and playing cards on the hood. Daryl carefully pressed the bow into my chest.

Without talking he communicated to me, pointing to the man who was boasting and slapping cards down on the hood frantically. Daryl pointed to his own temple, and I knew he wanted me to shoot him. He held up a finger telling me to wait and then he made a retreat, pulling out his knife as he made his way to the car nearest to the red suburban.

I aimed the bow, struggling a little with the weight that I had not had to carry for some time, and took in a deep anticipatory breath waiting for Daryl to make his move.

I saw Daryl's shadow move from behind one of the men, and I saw the glint of steel in his hand.

As Daryl lunged for the man I shot the other one with an arrow straight through the temple, right where Daryl had told me.

Daryl carefully caught both the men and lowered them softly to the ground and waved me over.

I kept low and joined him by the bodies while he collected their weapons. He tucked a handgun into the waist of his jeans, looped the rifle over my shoulder and then took back his crossbow and reloaded it with the arrow I had just shot.

We moved from there to another car which gave us a clear view of the gate, where we could see two figures pacing back and forth. I could recognise one, and judging by the reserved look on Daryl's face he recognised him too.

"Wally?" I whispered.

Daryl nodded solemnly.

We crept forward keeping low until we had a clear view of the men and the gate. There was nothing between us but open air. There was nowhere for Daryl to hide and use his knife, and if we fired a gun it would alert everyone to our presence.

Daryl swallowed hard and then made the risky move of stepping out in the open and firing an arrow into the man standing beside Wally and immediately reloading the crossbow with another.

The man dropped heavily to the ground and Wally pulled up his rifle and aimed it towards Daryl hesitating as recognition dawned on him.

His eyes scanned over to me and he lowered his weapon slightly, the he glanced back to Daryl who had the bow reloaded and aimed. Noticeably sighing, Wally tapped himself on the shoulder with two fingers and held his rifle up into the air signifying defeat.

As if they shared a secret language that Daryl understood, Daryl aimed the bow and shot him straight in the shoulder.

Groaning, Wally stumbled backwards and slumped down against the wall, grabbing hold of his shoulder, locking the shaft of the arrow between his fingers.

"Good shot." He grunted, looking up to Daryl and wincing in pain.

With a furrowed brow and a mouth twisted into a grimace, Daryl stepped past Wally, pulled out the swipe card from his pocket and swiped it over the reader on the gate.

"Still think you should come with is." Daryl muttered forlornly down to his friend.

Wally smiled and waved him off dismissively.

"Told you. No place for an old fella like me out there."

A sudden panicked yelling echoing through the garage interrupted their moment of friendship.

"That blonde bitch stabbed Negan!" Someone cried.

"Guard the gate!" Came another furious voice.

Reaching back, Daryl grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the gate that was still slowly rolling open.

"You got no chance on foot." Wally grunted. I turned to him to see he was holding something small and metallic out towards Daryl.

Daryl took it and then glanced back down the driveway towards the thundering sounds of boots on concrete, and then rested them on the motorcycle that had brought us to this place.

We both gave Wally a rushed but grateful goodbye tap on the shoulder and then raced towards the bike.

While Daryl jumped on and started her up, I tucked the rifle into my shoulder and let loose on the men who appeared around the bend, spraying them with bullets, while they yelled and cussed, and dived behind vehicles for cover.

The bike roared to life, and Daryl backed it out and spun it towards the now closing gate. I tossed the now empty rifle to the ground, and threw a leg over the seat, and gripped firmly on to Daryl's vest as he took off with a sharp jerk and raced to the small opening left by the closing gate.

Hearing the pattering of gun fire and the roar of engines fire up behind me I squeezed my eyes shut, and dug my face into Daryl's back, realising that if either of us were to be shot in this chase, it would be me.

I felt the bike tip as I assumed we moved up the ramp, and then I felt the bike sway as if we were turning.

The cool night air, whipped against the bare space on my thighs not covered by stocking or poncho, adding to the chill of fear.

I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see how close I was to being shot. Daryl, obviously thinking the same things I was, began swerving the bike from side to side, making me dig my knees into his hips so I wasn't tossed from the bike.

My hands, wrapped around his chest, could feel the furious beating of his heart that was met by my own, and with my ear on his back I could also hear what sounded like him cussing furiously.

I opened my eyes and turned my head back to see the bright headlights disappearing behind us, we were getting a good lead on them, and I let myself relax a little as I came to realise their shots couldn't reach me from so far.

Daryl was still cussing loudly, audible over the roar of the engine. I had now begun to realise what the problem was. The smell of gas burned through my nostrils, and I could feel the wet splash against my knees.

We were losing gas, and fast judging by how wet my legs were becoming.

After a few hundred yards, the bike spluttered and choked and shook, and Daryl's mouth called out fouler and louder than ever over the struggling motor, then the bike began to slow, and suddenly stopped jerking me forward.

Daryl kicked his legs off, grabbed up his crossbow and tugged me off the bike with such a force that a stumbled to my knees.

"Sumbitch shot the tank out." Daryl growled as he dragged me back up and pulled me through the matrix of abandoned cars that spread out ahead of us.

The first car Daryl approached had a living corpse in it that threw itself against the glass with a splatter of gore when he touched the handle. We left them and moved ahead.

The second car Daryl tried, he pulled open the door and a skeletal grey body tumbled out and fell to the ground with a crack. Daryl stepped over it, dropped into the seat and tried the engine. Nothing. Not even a click.

He sighed and looked up at me.

"I reckon, they'll all be dead." He slipped out of the seat and scanned over the mass of cars ahead of us. Then down the embankment to the open grass that disappeared into tree growth about a hundred yards out.

"Run for the trees?" He suggested with uncertainty.

I shook my head. "Won't make it." I reached into the car over him, and popped the lever. Then tugged on his shirt to get him to follow me to the trunk.

I climbed in first while Daryl nervously watched the road, then he jumped in behind me and pulled the top down, winding the latch with his trusty red rag.

We shifted into position, our backs against the side of the trunk, our legs interlocked. It was just like how we had hid from the herd those many months ago, but this time I felt like we were in even greater danger.

Just like many months ago, Daryl left the trunk open a crack, and aimed his crossbow outwards, watching and waiting, and just like many months ago, I tugged Daryl's knife from his sheath and clutched it to my chest and waited for the sounds of engines to approach.

It was mere seconds later when we heard the cars drive through slowly and voices calling out over the sounds of the engines.

"That's the bike right there." A voice called.

"You reckon they made for the trees?" another called.

"Maybe, or maybe they took one of the cars." The first voice responded.

"I didn't see a car take off. Maybe they're hiding in a car." A third voice called.

My heart dropped, and Daryl's eyes grew wide with terror as he watched intensely through the opening.

"You lot check the trees. You lot check the cars. We'll drive on ahead."

I heard grunts of acknowledgement and then a car drive away. Judging by the glowing light that could still be made out through the opening there were still one or two cars left behind.

I gripped the knife even tighter in my hand, and braced my other hand on the side of the trunk, ready to slam the blade into whatever opened the top.

Daryl and I sat there frozen in a state of panic, not even daring to breathe as we waited for what came next.

We heard mumbles and grunts and shifting sounds as the men searched the nearby cars. We heard the familiar raspy groans of walkers that were silenced with a wet slicking sound, and at one stage the trunk rocked from side to side indicting someone was in the car, but no one opened the trunk.

"There's no one here. My bet is they drove on out of here. That'd be the smartest move." A voice called

"A'right. Let's catch up with the others."

I heard the sound of doors slamming, of two engines coming to life, and then slowly fade and disappear along with the beams of light.

I breathed for the first time in what seemed like forever, waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and then smiled at Daryl. He was still frowning and looking through the gap cautiously.

"You think they're gone?" I whispered.

Daryl pressed the finger of his good hand to his lips, telling me to be silent. So I obeyed, shifting my grip on his knife and watching through the opening.

* * *

We had been sitting there for hours, listening to the sound of frogs and crickets chirping through the open air, and watching as the night slowly got lighter. Every part of me was aching from sitting so still, in the same position, for so long. I wriggled about and pushed my feet into Daryl's side, groaning softly at the relief that movement brought. His steely eyes turned from the opening in the trunk and glared at me, looking kind of stunned, like he had just been woken from a dream, or a nightmare.

"It's been hours." I whispered. "I think we're safe."

Daryl's eyes studied my face, looking blank and bewildered.

"You okay?" I asked, remembering not long before he had been drugged, and then forced to fight and then to run for his life.

"Yeah." He muttered. "Just kinda pinchin' myself that we might actually be a'right."

The tension in his arms and shoulders softened a little and he dropped the crossbow down to his lap, pressed his eye right up to the gap and the looked back to me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He sighed and stretched an arm up as far as the top would let him, and then reached towards the latch and began unwinding his rag.

Grinning, my mind filling with devilish thoughts, I lifted my leg and pressed my boot against his shoulder to still his movement.

"What's up?" he queried raising a curious eyebrow and nodding down to my boot pressed into his shoulder.

Biting gently on my lip I shifted onto my side and then wriggled myself forward, pushing his knees apart so I could slip between them, and prowled my way forward over his exposed chest.

His eyes watched me carefully, warily, as I moved in toward him, pressing my lips to his and lingering for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat and cigarette with a slight hint of whiskey. It was enough to drive out the images of Negan's naked form that haunted my memories. I pulled back slowly looking up into his wide eyes.

"You know." I murmured softly allowing the words to drip from my lounge like sweet syrup. "Ever since that night we hid in the trunk, I've wondered if it's possible to… _do it_ …in one."

His eyes dropped down to my lips, and he swallowed, before flinching away from me, blinking and looking annoyed.

"Beth!" He cried incredulously, pushing me away with his good hand. "This is life and death, girl."

I shook my head gently, and grabbing him by his vest tugged him back towards me.

"No it's not. Its' just life. We made it."

His eyes darted around the dark and cramped interior of the trunk, starting to heat up now as our breaths met and heated the air, and the rising sun heated the outside of the car. "What is it with you and wantin' to do it in mothafuckin shoe boxes?"

I shrugged my shoulders and blinked innocently. "Well…you enjoyed it in the car, right?"

He scoffed and smiled. "Yeah, 'course I enjoyed it. But woulda been better in a bed."

"And when do you think we're gonna find a bed again?"

He sighed and chuckled gently, looking down to my fingers tangling through his greying chest hair. "I promise. First thing we do when we get out of 'ere is find a bed. Even before we find food or water."

I slipped my hand into the palm of his bandaged hand prying his loosened grip away from his crossbow, and then pulled the hand to my chest.

"Feel this." I urged, pressing his hand flat against my thundering heart. It hadn't let up since I had gone up to Negan's penthouse. My mind was reeling from what I had done, my whole body still trembling with anxiety and feeling light with adrenaline overdose.

"And feel this." I took his other hand and slid it under the poncho, pushing it down against my belly, slipping into my underpants and leaving it tucked between my legs.

"Holy Christ, girl. It's like Niagara falls down there." He gingerly moved his fingers around examining the state of the inside of my underwear. "What the fuck were you thinkin' of while we were runnin' for our lives?"

I grinned up at him, and squeezed my thighs together, trapping his hand.

"I was thinkin' of gettin' away from hell. I was thinkin' of how wherever we're gonna end up, it's gonna be great, if you're there, and he's not. I was thinkin' of how much I love and want to be with you. And I was thinkin' about how cute you look when you're afraid."

"I weren't afraid." He replied smugly.

"Yes you were. _Pussy_."

"Pussy am I?" he cocked a brow, and dropped his eyes down to where his hand disappeared under the poncho.

"Uhuh."

"You want me to show you a pussy?"

"Yes please, Mr Dixon." I murmured, unclenching my thighs, allowing him to move once more.

The movement of his fingers, slipping through the slick wetness, downward and then inward was expected, but I still jumped at the sudden stretching sensation as they drove into me.

With his bandaged hand he grasped the nape of my neck and tilted my head back so he could kiss my exposed throat. "Is this…" He pressed his fingers firmly into my tender walls, and I gasped as the pressing sensation turned into a throbbing pulse. "…what you're lookin' for?"

"Uhuh." I uttered, moving my hands to his neck, and pulling my body hard up against his.

He dropped his hold on my neck, letting me tuck my head into his shoulder, and then removed his hand from my underwear and ran both hands over my backside, then grabbed at the hem of the poncho.

"Let's get this off." He tugged it up and over my head, balled it up and tucked it beside him, dug hid hand into his back, pulled out the handgun and rested it on top of the poncho and then let his eyes drift over my underwear.

"One day─ but not fuckin' now─ you're gonna tell me what this was all 'bout."

I nodded and smiled and moved in to kiss him, parting my lips and moving towards his mouth, enjoying the moistness of his breath as it blew gently over mouth and chin.

While his tongue and lips pressed against mine, both his hands moved back to my hips, and slid downward, catching under the elastic straps of the suspenders.

With a tug and a tearing sound, he ripped the clasps through the nylon, and let the stocking spring down to my knees.

I lifted my hips allowing him to tug my underpants down, and then bent my knees carefully to the side so he could slip them down and over my boots, and then let them drop to the dusty carpeted floor of the trunk.

My lips left his and moved through the whiskers on his chin and then to his neck, and then to his collar and chest, biting, kissing, licking, as my hands tugged at his loosened belt, and then at his fly, and then ventured inside to drag the length of him out.

He groaned as I clenched my hand around him, and slid my hand up and down slowly and firmly, relishing in how hard he had become so quickly.

I pulled my knees in towards me, pushing my back into the air, and hitting my backside on the roof of the car with a thud that caused the whole car to shake.

"We gotta try to stay quiet." He murmured. "still might be walkers 'round."

Nodding in acknowledgment, I bent my knees and pressed them to the side of his chest, and then using a hand to guide my way, pressed his end to my opening and slid my way down, gasping and groaning softly as he moved through the bands of aroused muscle.

Watching me with intense eyes, creased at the sides, he gripped my backside firmly in both hands, and forced me down fully on to his hips, letting out a strangled groan as we both adjusted to the sensation of him being fully sheathed within me.

Without shifting his gaze form mine, his warm and rough hands trailed up my back, down over my shoulders and then tugged the straps of my bra down, allowing my breasts to spill out of the cups.

Then his hands moved to the middle of my back and pulled me forward so that my chest was pressed firmly up against his, our heartbeats thudding together, his warm breath, brushing against my neck, just as mine did to his.

Moving his hands back to my hips, he guided the slow and careful movements as our hips rocked and the length of him moved inside me.

I wrapped my arms across his broad shoulders, tucking a hand behind his back and then tangling the fingers of my other hand through his hair as I tugged his mouth into my neck.

He bit down on me, wet and gentle, as I moaned into his ear. He too let out a gusty moan against my skin, as I felt myself beginning to convulse around him.

The trunk was rocking from side to side, as I rolled my hips back and forth over him, the movements getting firmer and quicker, and my moans and groans intensifying and getting harder to control as the shudders and convulsions thrummed and twisted and burned through every part of me.

Desperately he began clawing against the wet and clammy skin of my lower back, tugging me forward, building up the friction and heat where the skin of our chests met.

I threw my head back as I felt myself come completely undone, knocking my forehead into the top of the trunk, I let out a muffled cry of both ecstasy and pain, continuing to twitch my hips back and forth, while he drove up into me, drawing out the peak of my pleasure.

"Fuck." Daryl grunted, slipping his hands below my backside and lifting me quickly into the air.

I dropped down heavily on top of him, panting and puffing , and listening to his short sharp groans as he finished himself off all over my backside.

Between my jagged gasps, I fluttered gentle kisses over his neck and jaw, waiting for him to gain control over his own breathing. When he was done he turned his head to the side, so I could just make out one blue eye.

"That weren't all that bad." He muttered, smirking.

I tilted my head back so I could see his grinning face. "Knew you would like it."

He sighed and then tapped me affectionately on the backside.

"Fun and games are over now. We're all about survival from here on out. Got it?"

I nodded and ran a finger over his chin, and tugged gently on his whiskers. "Until we find a bed?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, 'til we find a bed."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So yeah, this was actually one of the hardest chapters I've written so far. Obviously, I wanted to make all of you think Beth was going to do it with Negan, but writing Beth being all sexual with Negan actually turned my stomach, so I don't think I was all that convincing in my facade. Then I had to write action, and I hate writing action. Then I threw in a sex scene, that would probably be totally unrealistic after nearly being killed, but I really, really wanted them to have sex in a trunk ever since watching 'still', plus I thought you guys needed a reward for making it through all that horrible angst.
> 
> Anyhoo I might revisit this chapter and fix some little flaws up now the initial anxiety of getting it published has past.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with it, I hope you are happy with how Beth handled the 'situation'. (she looks so badass in the new trailer! I was even tempted to make her escape the hotel though the elevator shaft, but it didn't work for a number of reasons)
> 
> Please feel free to call me a bitch in the reviews for putting you through that hell ;)
> 
> P.S some slight hell to follow…nothing you cant handle.


	8. Taketh and Giveth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is angsty.

 

The inside of the trunk was boiling up like the hinges on Satan’s steam room. Judging by the growing light outside, the sun had broken the horizon and the warmth that radiated through the steel into the interior was added to the warmth that was radiating from Beth’s sweat slickened body.

Beth simpered at me, lashes lowered over her blue eyes that still, somehow, managed to glisten in the dim light.

My eyes trailed down over her body as she stretched, twisted and arced trying to tug her panties over her boots and draw them up to her hips.

There was something different about her. Something even more beautiful, and mesmerizing, and breathtaking than there was before.

I thought maybe I was seeing her in a new light, knowing that she had been through some heavy shit, most recently killing a man to save the pair of us. Then I thought maybe I was just deliriously ecstatic, knowing that we were finally free from Negan and his hellish hotel. But as I took in the view of her legs, and ass and hips and tits, there was something physically changed about her. She looked fuller and softer and more womanly.

“What’re you starin’ at.” She tilted her head into my view, strands of her blonde hair loose from her ponytail drifting over my knees.

I shrugged my shoulders, and grinned. “Nothin’.”

She tittered and reached to the bundled up patterned wool poncho at my side, gave it a stiff, awkward shake and tugged it over her head.

Shaking away my dazed and awed state I fumbled away at my belt buckle, finishing the job I had started of fixing it into place.

My eyes moved quickly over our limited weapons. My Stryker. My Busse. And the Colt .22.

“You want the sheathe?” I asked, nodding my head towards my Busse in her hand.

She frowned down to it. “Think I could take the gun?”

I slid the Colt we had swiped from one of Negan’s men across the sand-packed carpet, and then took the knife she held out to me and slotted it away safely in its leather.

“Don’t know where you’re gonna stick the thing.” I unwound the rag from the latch and let the trunk spring open, basking the interior in early morning light and cool fresh air.

Crawling to her knees and sitting upright in the new found space, Beth tugged up the edge of the poncho and snapped the elastic suspender against her hip with a single finger. “Built in holster.”

She chuckled lightly, sweetly, as she lifted the pistol and held it against her hip, ready to slip it downwards.

I wasn’t sure if I heard it, felt it, or saw it first.

Hot wet drops splattering over my face, a bloom of crimson appearing suddenly over Beth’s abdomen, or and the voice yelling “There!” and the cracking of gun fire.

The world grew still and silent for a moment, my eyes locked on to Beth’s stunned face. In slow and staggered motion her hand dropped to her belly, and fingered through the blood smeared there.

She dropped down before me, and the continuing gun fire brought back my senses.

Out of instinct I dropped my left hand down on to Beth’s belly and pressed down on the wound. My right hand gripped around the Colt and aimed out towards the sound of the gunfire.

The more logical side of my brain told me there was no way I could fire that thing with my busted hand. Without the grip of my missing fingers I wouldn’t be able to control the kickback, but the emotional side, the side that had just seen my girl shot, told me to hold that fucker strong and shoot.

With two well placed shots, I killed two of the dumb sumbitches who were bobbing their heads above the bonnets of cars.

With the whining, clinking and clunking of metal against metal as holes punched through the trunk, I knew I had to draw the fire away from Beth.

“Keep up the pressure.” I yelled to her as I forced her fragile hands onto her abdomen and then leapt out of the trunk and rolled to cover behind the nearest car.

As I had hoped, the gunfire was drawn to my movement, punching holes into the undercarriage of the car I had taken shield behind.

I pressed my chest into the leaves and tiny rocks that covered the asphalt and peered across the road. I could make out three sets of boots scuffling around among the array of cars.

Holding the Colt firmly in my awkward grip, I rolled to the side of the vehicle, stood and turned to shoot over the top of the hood.

The first shot caught one of them in the shoulder, and he wailed and stumbled back. The second shot went straight through his temple, flinging his head to the side and dropping him to the ground like a tonne of bricks.

Feeling the heat of a bullet skimming past my face, I ducked down and crawled around to the next car.

There were two left. By my calculations, and I had six bullets. My Stryker was still in the trunk of the car. I had to make those bullets count.

I dove across to Hyundai to my right, hoping it would give me a clearer view of my attackers. I took to the ground and ducked my head around the tyre, to catch a flash of boots and clothing running away from me. I shot him once in the calf. The second time in the chest as he stumbled to the ground.

Wheezing and cussing the guy lifted his gun arm, raising his weapon at me. I shot a third bullet in between his eyes.

There were two left and I could hear heavy breathing on the opposite side of the car, approaching me. I jumped out towards the sound and caught the butt of a rifle in the temple. I stumbled back, taken by surprise and then charged the guy, forcing my shoulder into his guts. He fell to the ground and I straddled over him, punching him with my left hand, before lifting my right to finish him with the gun. He grabbed hold of the gun, slipping his finger into the trigger hold.

As we tugged and pulled on the weapon to get it free, he shot into the air. Once. Twice.

I drove my left elbow into his nose, and when he loosened his grip on the gun, I turned it and fired it into his face.

That was my last shot, and there was one left, I checked the rifle to see that was empty too. They must have expelled all their ammo into the trunk. And now I could hear Beth crying out.

Scrambling to my feet I saw the last guy, reaching into the trunk, he had Beth by the hair and was pulling her forward.

I pulled out my Busse, gripped the blade, tugged it back and flicked it forward.

His skull would have been a lot firmer than a walkers, and I had used my weakened right hand, but I had so much rage built up inside of me that I managed to get the blade embedded right up to the grip in the back of his skull, and he stumbled back releasing his hold on Beth and then fell to the ground.

I glanced around at the cars and surrounding grasslands, seeing if I had missed anyone and then moved quickly back to the open trunk.

They all appeared to be down, and Beth, although covered in blood, was still alert, repeating “No.” over and over again whilst she looked down over her abdomen.

I tugged up the poncho to examine the bullet wound in her belly. It was off to her side, beside her jutting hip bone, but blood covered her from rib to thigh.

I rolled her to the side. No exit wound. The bullet was still knocking about inside somewhere.

I grabbed for my red rag, filthy and most likely filled with all kinds of bacteria and other nasty shit, but lacking anything clean, I forced it down on to her wound.

“You okay?” I choked, trying to regain my breath.

“It hurts.” She sobbed. “Everything hurts!”

I bobbed my head up and down, feeling a little dazed and bewildered and like screaming “fuck you” to the world.

I had known someone shot in the abdomen before. He died a drawn out painful death. And that was even after being taken to a proper hospital with surgeons and operating facilities. Out here we had nothing.

If that had hit anything important ─ her intestines, her bladder, whatever other stuff girls had in there─ we were screwed.

“You’ll be okay.” I told her, forcing false surety into my voice.

Judging by the way her sobs had turned into squeaks; I didn’t think I had been believable.

I bent down and yanked my Busse out of the guy’s head, cleaning it on his shirt and slipping it back in its sheath. Then I turned back to Beth, tucked my arms under her, lifted her out of the trunk and guided her boots to the ground.

I grabbed for the crossbow, swung it on to my back and then hooked Beth’s arm over my shoulder, taking the weight of her trembling body.

“Reckon you can walk?”

“I…I…I don’t know.” She sobbed.

“C’mon we gotta move. They ain’t got no car ‘ere. I reckon someone’ll be back to collect ‘em.”

Beth gripped onto my shoulder and stumbled her feet forward, holding the dirty rag to her hip while whimpering and squeaking and drawing in quick sharp breaths.

She was taking this a lot harder than I thought she would. She was either in a lot of pain, or she was thinking what I was trying my hardest not to. That she was going to die.

I shook my head and tried to focus on getting us out of here, and to somewhere I could see to her properly.

I looked up to the grey morning sky. To the heavens above.

_Think we can get one tiny fucking break?_

Stumbling down the road I looked up, focusing on the large green sign further on.

As we approached the white letters became legible, and the words that were written made them gleam like diamonds among shit.

“Thank fucking Christ!” I exclaimed, with a voice strained in sudden relief.

Beth lifted her head to examine the sign I was focused on.

“A…Maternity…hospital?”

“Yeah, and only 4 miles.” I grinned at her in an effort to reassure her, even though I still had my reservations about our sudden good luck. I knew it would take me at least an hour to walk there. Longer, dragging Beth, and going off road as we would have to, to avoid Negan’s men.

Beth looked up at me with her dull blue eyes growing wide on her ghastly white face. “But…the sick…would’ve gone…to hospitals.”

I shook my head. “You ain’t gonna show up to no maternity hospital with a bite. It’s perfect.”

She loosened her grip from my shoulder and started sinking to her knees pulling me down with her and whimpering; “Please!...Please don’t…take me there…please.”

I tugged her back up, holding her firmly around the waist. “Why the hell not?” I half yelled into her face, trying to be encouraging, but coming off as desperate.

“I just…please…there might be…babies…there.”

I started walking forward tugging her resistant body along. “If there are, you just keep your eyes closed. I’ll handle it.”

* * *

 

Beth didn’t last all that long before her feet completely stopped moving and I was just dragging her across the ground, her boots leaving a trail through the leaves and ground cover.

I dipped my shoulder and let her drop gently to the ground. Then I swung my Stryker off my shoulder and used it and my Busse to take out the huddle of five walkers that had been gathering and trailing behind us; attracted to the sounds of Beth’s sobs, that had now gone silent.

When they were down I collected my bolts; I only had four. I had left one back in Wally’s shoulder, and now one was cracked beyond use.

I looked back up to the sky and yelled to the clouds; “Giveth and taketh fuckin’ away!”

Responding to my cries, Beth looked up at me, her eyes looking heavy and weary.

“Maybe you should just leave me. I’m slowin’ you down.”

I screwed up my face, disgusted she would even make the suggestion. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” I yelled, stomping back toward her.

I pulled at her blood covered hands to look at the rag. It was already red. I couldn’t tell how full of blood it was, but it felt pretty wet. I pulled off my knife sheathe and tugged my belt from its loops then tucked it under Beth’s back, wrapped it around the rag to hold it in place. Even on the smallest notch it was too big, so I tied it in a crude knot, and then put my sheath back on it.

I slipped an arm under her knees and under her back, scooping her up into my arms and stumbled to my feet.

“You can’t…carry me…the whole way.” She protested weakly.

I readjusted her body, by balancing her on my knee, trying to distribute her weight. “Like hell I can’t, girl! I ran a whole fuckin’ night tryin’ to get to you. I can carry you a coupla miles!”

She didn’t respond. Her chin dropped to her chest, her eyes closed, her breaths went slow and steady. She was out cold.

I looked back to the sky. “Fuck You, man. Fuck you!”

* * *

 

From my position among the pine trees I peered out at the red brick Maternity hospital. It was an older looking single level building, hidden among overgrown grasses and garden beds.

The lot that surrounded it was spotted with around twenty idle walkers, standing still, or swaying gently from side to side as if moved by the breeze.

I eyed over the building, working out a path of approach. There was a long ramp up one side of the building leading to a service door. The path there looked pretty clear, the walkers spread far enough apart that I could weave my way through without too much trouble.

I scooped up Beth’s limp body from where I had rested her against the tree. Took a deep breath and made a run for it, darting out on to the gravel drive, leaping over fallen branches and windblown trash.

Beth’s body flipped and flopped and dangled about as I moved, her legs and arms hanging lifelessly, her head shaking from side to side.

The walkers had caught wind of us now, and were groaning hungrily as they turned towards as and stumbled on heavy dead feet.

I managed to slip through their fumbled grasp, using Beth’s feet to knock one over as I passed, and then ran straight up the ramp to the door.

I tried the handle. Locked of course.

The walkers had made their way to the ramp now, scraping their fingers against the painted concrete as they tried to drag themselves forward.

I turned back to the door, lifted my boot and slammed it into wood by the handle trying to loosen the lock. It shifted a quarter of an inch and then slammed back in place.

I turned to the rabid and excited snarls, a few walkers had pulled themselves on to the ramp now and were dragging their way closer.

I shifted Beth’s weight, holding her closer and then using all of my force booted the door open. It swung wild, slamming into the interior wall, and I leapt inside, dropped Beth to the ground and closed the door behind us, leaning against it to hold off the walkers.

They were fairly weak. There pushes barely moving the door. But the door latch was busted and couldn’t hold them off. I examined the room surrounding me. A store room filled with boxes, and a trolley a legs length away.

I hooked my boot around the wheel, dragged it to the door, and flipped it on to its side pushing it against the door, and then put a few heavy boxes on top to hold it in place.

Confident it would hold, I finally let my body unclench, dropping down beside Beth. I was trembling, gasping and gulping in air and a cold puddle of sweat had collected in the middle of my back.

“You okay?” A quiet voice came from my side.

Sighing and smiling with relief that Beth was finally alert, I pulled her head into my shoulder and kissed her cold and clammy forehead. “Yeah…” I gulped in another breath of air. “Think y’… put on a few…pounds…since last I carried y’.”

She dropped her eyes from mine down to her knees and smiled weakly.

“C’mon.” I called standing, and then reaching down for her hand so I could pull her arm over my shoulder. “We gotta see to that wound.”

* * *

 

The halls were dark and desolate, the air stale and dusty. It was like no one had thought to come here for safety or supplies, or if they did, they hadn’t died in the process.

Addressing the problem of their being little light, I checked out the nurses station first for an emergency kit, finding a torch with working batteries and a map marked with emergency exits.

Following the map we weaved our way through the halls, passing corridors signed with ‘ward’ and ‘birthing suite’ and ‘nursery’. When we passed the long window into the room filled with tiny cribs, Beth buried her face into my chest, and I kept my eyes forward and hoped there was nothing in there I would have to take care of.

We followed the map down to the theatre where I assumed everything I would need to get a bullet out and sew Beth up could be found.

The room was so dark that I though it best to go in alone, thinking dragging a body around in the dark would just take precious time that we didn’t have. I guided her to a bed in the nearby recovery room and went back to the theatre. Poking around in the cupboards and draws, I found a vacuum packed kit in a large plastic bag, and brought it back to Beth.

She had pulled the sunshine yellow curtains open and now the room was glowing brightly with late morning sun. There were four beds in the room, sheets all twisted and turned as if the room had been left in a hurry. Beth’s eyes were downcast and focused on the nearby crib. Empty. Thank goodness.

“Lay Back.” I urged, pushing her gently back into the pillows.

I shifted the folds of bloody wool out the way, and then loosened the belt with one tug.

I slopped the red rag on the ground, saturated with blood. I would guess at the very least a pint but possibly twice that. Judging by her pale lips and translucent skin, some new blood would do her good, but there was no point in even dreamin’ of that, or even begging it of god.

I examined the wound, no longer seeping, but looking mottled and grey and not at all healthy. She needed a fucking doctor, not some redneck asshole who only knew about stitching things up from getting into bar fights with his no good brother. Given, I had pulled a bullet from Merles thigh once, but the fucker had been half hanging out. I couldn’t see nothing among the ragged mess of Beth’s flesh.

I tore the plastic pouch with my teeth and pulled out everything I needed. Scissors, tweezers, forceps, gauze, a suture needle and thread and a bottle of sterilising lotion.

I pulled the cap off the bottle and downed a few ounces of it over Beth’s whole abdomen. She didn’t cry out or even flinch as I poked and prodded, just stared at the empty crib.

I rubbed my greasy hands onto the bed sheets, and then poured some more onto my hands, rubbing it up to my elbows, then picked up the forceps with my left hand.

“Brace yourself.”

Without moving her eyes, Beth twisted the sheets between both hands and clenched her jaw.

I pressed the forceps into her wound and opened it half an inch, taking the tweezers in my left hand.

No good.

I switched hands putting the forceps in my right and tweezers in my left.

Still no fucking good.

I sighed and half dropped half tossed the implements to the bed. Even if I did have all my fingers, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and every part of me was so numb, I couldn’t feel my way through it anyway. My insides were clenched so tight I couldn’t even take a full breath. Everything felt so pointless. So helpless.

“What’s…wrong?” Beth turned her eyes towards me, dark, tired and empty.

Not wanting to speak for fear of sobbing and letting her know how shit scared I was. I wadded up the clean gauze and pushed it into her wound and then wrapped a clean bandage around it, and taped it in place. When I was done she was still watching me, looking kind of apathetic, when she should have been concerned.

“I can’t do it.” I muttered, splaying out my damaged hand in front of her face. “Can’t use my left, can’t use my right. I’m sure I’d do more harm than good.”

“You’re just gonna leave it?”

I looked down to the newly formed holes on the knees of my jeans, the skin underneath all grazed and dirty. “Prob’ly best I do.”

“Will it…be okay?”

I shrugged and then nodded. Lying. If there were fragments in there, moving around inside, they would tear her up from the inside out.

I bit my lip trying to stop it from trembling and looked out the window, the clouds had now opened up and a light drizzle was dripping down, forming a rainbow in the sunny part of the sky.

_A fucking rainbow?_

The good lords sense of humour was worse than Wally’s.

I felt her hand slipping into my palm, pinching it weakly. I guessed she was trying to squeeze it so I squeezed her hand back.

“Should we…stay here…a while…Rest?”

_Rest in peace._

I shook my head. “Nah. I reckon Negan’s men might catch on that we came ‘ere. We should keep movin’.”

“Where can we go?”

I shook my head and shrugged. Even if we had somewhere to go, we probably wouldn’t get far. Maybe we could find somewhere quiet out in the woods, and she could just _go_ in my arms. Laying on top of the poncho, dying the same place we had once made love.

“Maybe we could…go back to that camp…the one where…all the pigs came from…you saved that kid right?...They’ll welcome…us there.”

I clenched my jaw. “No. They won’t.”

“Sure they will…you’d be like…a hero.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath, shaking my head slowly. “No. We’re not goin’ there, Beth.”

A silence loomed in the air. I sensed Beth’s eyes on me. Searching. She knew not to press the issue. She was smart enough to figure out Negan’s game, so she could figure out he had done something else to torture me.

“Reckon you…can help me change?”

I looked to her face that was turned towards the door, her eyes resting on a set of rose coloured medical scrubs hanging on a hook.

I collected the scrubs and helped her to change, moving her limp limbs about delicately, as if she were a tiny china doll. If felt like if I used any kind of force at all, she would crack under my fingers. I stripped her of everything. Sliding her Panties over her boots, pulling of her bra, removing the boots and stockings, and tossing everything she had got from Negan’s hell hotel to the floor.

I wrapped her up in her new attire, the oversized linen making her look even more small and fragile, and the rose colour making her look white as the sheets she was laying back on.

“First thing we gotta do is get you some water.” I told her as I tugged her boots on, and then dragged her off the bed, taking her weight over my shoulder again. Water wasn’t going to keep her alive, but it was a start, I guessed.

I moved forward, and her boots dragged below her across the linoleum. Knowing she was too weak to move her legs I tucked my arms behind her knees scooping her up once more ─Maybe the last time─ and carried her out of the room.

* * *

 

We were walking past the nursery when we heard it. A voice. And then another. One of them sounded familiar. Maybe Troy? No too soft for Troy. Maybe Chris?

I ducked into the nursery and placed Beth cautiously on to the ground, tucking her behind a row of cribs. She lay straight on the ground too weak to even lift her head. Pointlessly, I pressed her hand on to the knife resting on her belly, and then took my bow of my shoulder. Hopefully it _was_ only two. I could handle two. Anymore, well, what did it matter now anyway?

I lifted the bow, pressing the stock into my shoulder and peering down the sight, and stepped out towards the sound of the voices, keeping myself crouched low.

“You reckon this one? It’s damn heavy, but it should fit.” The familiar voice called.

“Yeah. Maybe we should’ve brought a third man.” The other voice replied.

At least that confirmed there were only two. I crept closer trying to get the two men in my sights.

“No. They’re all stumbling buffoons. Me and you are the quickest.” The familiar voice again.

As my eyes rested on one of the two figures, I realised now why the voice was so familiar. It wasn’t a voice I had only known for a matter of weeks. It was one I had known for years. I knew that slick black hair, school boy dress sense, and light footed gait anywhere.

I stood up straight and stumbled forward down the dimly lit hall, choking back all the emotions I was feeling, and half whimpered half yelled;

“Glenn!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there!


	9. While You Were Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a story within a story.

I had died and gone to heaven. Either that or the blood loss and the pain had made me go completely delusional.

In the haze of my mind, it sounded like Daryl had called out to Glenn, and Glenn had called out to Daryl. Then it sounded like muffled laughter and cries of excitement, then multiple footsteps slapping against a surface and growing louder as they approached.

“Beth?” The astounded voice of my brother-in-law called.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to reality. To return to the pain that was ripping through my pelvis or to Daryl’s fearful expression, tight lips, and wide eyes that looked at me as if I was a ghost already. But I had to see if the voice I was hearing was more than just my imagination.

I forced my heavy eyes open and turned my head towards the voice, focusing in on the dark almond shaped eyes.

“She looks like hell.” His voice sounded kind of hollow and echoey and distant, but it was definitely Glenn.

“Glenn?” His name cracked and caught in my throat. I tried to reach out to touch him, just to confirm he was real, but my arms felt so heavy and stiff and so cold ─so very cold─ I just left them by my sides.

“Maggie…is she…”

A wide grin spread on Glenn’s face. “She’s fine. She’s great!”

A flutter of hope and happiness and relief drifted through my body, momentarily taking my mind of the pain.

My sister was alive.

I wanted to ask about the others ─about Judith and Rick and Carl─ but I couldn’t gather the energy to speak anymore, so I just focused all my energy into making forming a smile.

Someone with strong and firm arms gathered me up, tucking me inwards and I pressed my face into the heat of their body and inhaled the scent of them. It was of sweat and leather and blood and all things Daryl.

“What the hell happened to you two?” Glenn asked, ducking his head in front of me and touching a hot hand to my face, and then looking down towards my back where Daryl’s hand was supporting me. ”What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Ran into the wrong people.” Daryl’s chest rumbled as he spoke. “And if we don’t get a move on, we might be runnin’ into ‘em again.”

“We better make this quick then.” Glenn said as he disappeared from view.

“Take her to the car.” An unfamiliar voice called. “Then we gotta get the crib.”

I turned my head, as far as I could manage, towards the voice, to see the shadow of a figure in the darkness. When the fogginess in my vision had cleared I caught the little light there was in the room reflecting off a pair of eye glasses. The man who was wearing them had dark skin, with a slight build similar to Glenn’s. His hair was in long matted coils like Michonne’s, but shorter, and bundled behind his head.

The stranger looked down on me with his face twisted in concern, then up to Daryl.

“I’m Heath by the way.”

Daryl grunted in response, and then Heath’s face disappeared as I began to rock and sway against Daryl’s body. The light in the room got brighter, and then squares of light began to float past me as I was carried through the hospital corridor.

“What’s up with her, man?” I heard Glenn whisper as if he didn’t want me to hear.

“She’s been shot. In the gut.” Daryl replied with a grunt as he shifted my weight.

A muffled and anxious groan came from somewhere behind me, from where I imagined Heath was walking. “We’ve got a doctor back at home. A good one.”

I felt Daryl’s hands clench against my thigh and back, and he murmured something under his breath.

“We’ve got everything there!” Glenn added excitedly.

The light suddenly went so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut. Judging by the sudden swell of cool air, and a light spray of water over my skin I concluded we were outside, and it was still raining.

“The place we’re at, it’s a real sweet deal. We’ve even got our…hold on a minute.”

I heard a wet squelch, a groan and a muffled thud.

“Thought we got ‘em all.” Glenn said between heavy breaths. I heard another groan and thud as I assumed another walker was being taken down.

“There we’re none last time we were here.” Heath said with a grunt, and then another wet squelch and thud followed.

“This place. Is it far away?” Daryl grunted with a hint of strain in his voice. He had been carrying me off and on for hours now. I knew he would soon be grumbling about how an old man like him wasn’t cut out for that kind of work.

“On the south side of Washington.” Heath informed us in a casual voice that made me think the few walkers had been dealt with.

Daryl made a thoughtful mumbling sound. “That’ll do.”

Negan’s hotel had been far out to the East. On the few times I had gone out, they hand bothered to check out the south side. It was possible Negan’s man wouldn’t know to look for us there.

The initial glare from the light had abated now, and I could see I was being carried towards a red pick-up truck with something large and lumpy under a tarpaulin in the tray.

Glenn opened the passenger door, and Daryl ducked his head down under the frame sliding in and then shifting me on to the worn and cracked leather seat.

“I gotta help ‘em with somethin’. Won’t be long.” He said as he pressed the handle of his knife into my hand.

Struggling to wrap my fingers around the grip, I nodded and turned my head as far as I could to watch him close the door and disappear from sight out the window.

I sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of my breathing, trying to ignore the ache and burn inside me, and wondering if everything that just happened was real.

After everything we had been through, I didn’t even know how to respond to something good happening for once. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or scream at the top of my lungs. If I had the energy, I would’ve done all three.

* * *

 

There was a clunking and scraping and as the truck rocked from side to side. I thought maybe walkers had gotten to the truck, and I fumbled around for the blade that had slipped from my grasp. Then the door was pulled open and Daryl slid in beside me, lifting me under the arms and pulling me onto his lap.

He crooked his neck down, kissed me on my temple and whispered in my ear. “You’re gonna be a’right, girl.”

And for the first time all day, I believed him.

Glenn slid in on my other side, and smiled at me cheerfully while giving me a reassuring squeeze on the knee, then turned his head out of the window and into the rain.

“You alright out there?”

Heath grumbled a response, sounding not too impressed that we had taken his spot in the dry cab of the truck.

There was a whirr and then a rumble and the truck trembled and shook to life.

“We were so worried about you guys.” Glenn said, as the truck lurched forward, and he spun the wheel around, his eyes fixed forward.

“What happened? We got back and you we’re all gone.” Daryl asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

We had never really discussed how we felt about being left behind. I had always assumed it must have been something important. Life or death. Daryl must have been hiding anger about it for some time. He had always had issues with abandonment.

“What happened to us?” Glenn asked in an incredulous tone. “Why didn’t you wait like I said?”

“You didn’t say nothin’.”

“No. I left you a note.”

“You what?”

“On the floor of the garage, in huge letters, written in white chalk. _‘wait here_ ’.”

“I never saw no...” Daryl choked on his words, swallowed and then sighed. “I had a lot on my mind that day. Didn’t look for no notes.” He added quietly.

We both had a lot on our minds that day. Daryl was usually very observant, but he had made mistakes before when he had been distracted.

“We thought maybe a herd had come through, or marauders or…I don’t know…”Glenn chuckled lightly to himself. “I mean we knew you would be okay, as long as you had each other.”

Daryl’s hand gripped firmly around my shoulder. “Where’d you go anyway?”

“Well, it’s one hell of a story...”

I was sure it couldn’t have been more hell than our story, but I closed my eyes, nuzzled into Daryl’s warmth and allowed myself to be lulled into a daze by the gentle rumbling of the truck as I let Glenn’s words paint a vivid picture in my mind.

“On that day, several months ago now, back at the gas station parking lot. It was like a war zone. Everyone was yelling and gun shots were crackling through the air. My chest was still hurting from where the bullet had hit the Kevlar. I was still struggling to breath, but I had to fight on.

The Termites seemed to be everywhere, calling from all angles. Taunting us, saying what they were going to do to us. It turned my stomach, because I knew they would be true to their word if they ever got hold of us.

We thought we were winning at first, we had the numbers on them, but they had taken us by surprise, and some of them had crept up behind us while we were focusing on Gareth.

Maggie had been right beside me, but we were moving between cars trying to shake off the gun fire, she got left behind at some point. Next thing we knew the Termites had a hold of both her and Tara, and were dragging them through the middle of the firing zone, kicking and screaming and struggling. We held our fire of course, not wanting to misplace our shots.

Gareth gagged them and bound them and forced them back into the car, all the while telling us in explicit detail what they planned to do to them.”

I swallowed hard as I listened to the story of what happened to my sister. I was filled with concern, but Glenn said she was fine. That she was great. I was sure whatever had been done to her, she had recovered from it.

“I wanted to kill them.” Glenn cried furiously, his jaw clenching and bulging in remembered anger. “But they used the girls to cover the windows, to shield themselves. Then that young guy, Jason, remember him? Well he tried to grab a hold of the car as they got in, got shot in the chest. We were in such a panic we didn’t even take care of him. Make sure he stayed down. The kid did good. But we were all too distracted to send him off the way he should have been.

We all raced back to the mini-vans ready to follow. Abe wanted to leave ‘em, but of course I wasn’t having it. We were gonna split into two cars, but then Eugene came down, said he wasn’t going anywhere without Maggie and Tara. Abe was real pissed, but he had no choice. Eugene was his life’s purpose. So we gathered all our shit up. That’s when we realised you two were gone. We didn’t know what had happened, thought maybe you had been run off by walkers or more of the Termites, but we knew you would be together. We knew you would be okay. That’s when I wrote that note for you.” Glenn turned to face Daryl with a grim and sincere look on his face. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait, but I didn’t want to lose sight of Maggie. They already had a head start.”

“Yeah I get it.” Daryl grunted, while squeezing my shoulder. I knew he would have done the same if I had been taken.

“So we all got in the vans and followed them down the road. They had a good lead on us, but with no other cars on the road it wasn’t too hard to follow their trail.

We followed them all the way back to this old weather worn church, paint all cracked and faded, windows all boarded up, hidden out in the middle of the woods. We thought we could take ‘em there, but as we approached we realised there were more of them there.

Remember Dean and his buddies? They were there. They were with them. It was real messed up.

So we had to hang back a bit, scout the area, try to find a way in.

I went in by myself first, climbed up the porch, over the shingles and watched them through one of the stained glass windows up on the top.

I saw them. Doing terrible things to Tara.”

Glenn’s eyes dropped down and he swallowed hard.

“She didn’t make it. She didn’t survive what they did. It was for the best. No one would want to live after having that done to them.

I smashed in the windows and started firing down like a mad man. They returned fire, and I would’ve been done for, but then Rick and Abe were bashing in the front door. Michonne, and Rosita took the back. Bob and Sasha got anyone who slipped past.

We rounded them all up into the middle of the church. They tried giving us that old line of doing what they needed to survive. But we weren’t falling for it this time, and they knew it.

I asked them about Maggie, and Gareth, he looked up his eyes all dark, and his face twisted into a sickening sneer.

He told me they had already done her. The same way they did Tara.”

Glenn’s eyes dropped from the road again, and he gently shook his head from side to side.

“We did terrible things. I was so angry…about Maggie…I made Gareth eat his own…”

Daryl interrupted, sparing us all from hearing the details. “It don’t matter, man. We’ve all done things. They brought it on themselves.”

“Yeah. Well, once we were done, we set that church on fire. It lit up like the sun and turned the night sky into a sea of orange and red.

I was a real mess. I don’t even know how I ended up there, but I ended up back at the motel, crying out for Maggie. We spent that night there. I didn’t sleep though. I sat up all night staring at the horizon, waiting for dawn, wondering if I would see a glimpse of Maggie’s soul on the pathway to heaven. And when dawn came, at the moment the sun’s rays first touched the earth I saw a golden chariot appearing.”

He chuckled to himself.

“A church bus. We didn’t know who it was at first, thought maybe it was Termites we had missed, we were ready to battle again, but the bus pulls up and a priest hops out, and then Maggie gets out behind him, unhurt and fully intact, but covered in black soot. She ran to me with tears streaming down her face, leaving clean trails through the ash. She was wailing uncontrollably... well maybe it was me that was wailing… _someone_ was definitely wailing.

Turns out Tara had provided a diversion so that Maggie could slip her binds and escape. They caught on to it as Maggie was trying to sneak out the back door. She was able to get back down into the church undercroft, where she ran into the priest who had been living at the church.

He had been in a hidden room the whole time, so he took Maggie in, and they stayed there listening to the screams and cries from above, and then to the gunshots. It was the smoke of the fire that eventually drew them out. Then Maggie convinced the priest to leave, and they made their way back to the motel, and to us.

We waited there for two more days for you, hoping you had just gone out on a run.

On the second day Abe was getting real restless. He started packing up one of the vans, and telling us to give up and move on to Washington.

He was on the upper level of the motel arguing his point with Rick when things started getting heated. Eugene stepped in between the two and Abe grabbed hold of that radio he was always carrying around. The one he said kept him in contact with Washington.

Abe was yelling about saving the world and having a duty to human kind, Eugene was grabbing at the radio and next thing we know it’s flung out of Abe’s hand and falling to the ground below. It shattered into a dozen pieces of plastic and metal and wire.

I was standing downstairs when it happened. I went over and examined the smashed pieces of radio. It was just a cheap piece of crap kids radio. The kind you use to talk to your buddy in the kitchen when you’re in the bedroom. Eugene had picked it up from a toy store. He had been lying to us the whole damn time.”

Daryl’s body tensed up against me, and then he gave a muffled groan of disapproval. I however, didn’t even feel the slightest bit of disappointment. Although I had tried to hold on to hope that Eugene’s story was true, there had always been a little bit of doubt within me. And now that I was with Glenn, and soon to be with Maggie, I wasn’t concerned about Washington at all.

“Yeah I know right? We didn’t even need to leave Georgia.

It turns out Eugene was just a computer programmer. A nerd, who got all these save the world ideas from playing a dumb game. He lied about everything so people would protect him and keep him safe.

Abe was real angry, understandably. He threw him around a bit, I think he even wanted to kill him, but Rick talked him down. We discussed going back to Georgia, and then we thought if you guys hadn’t come back, you had probably gone on to Washington without us.

So we took off to Washington, having to make a few stops to camp and get supplies along the way. The roads were so blocked up, it took us two days to get there, and when we did we saw the whole place was surrounded by walkers.

I have to admit we kind of gave up at that point. We camped in the surrounding towns for a while, trying to find a decent place to stay, but we had to move about when herds roamed through.

We had the sense we were being followed for some time. A few times I had been out on runs and seen a shadow, or heard something shifting behind me. So one day everyone packed up the vans and took off, but Rick and I stayed behind, hidden. These two guys come out on road bikes and tried to tail the vans, but we run ‘em down with this hatch we had repaired.

We knocked them out and tied them up. When they came back to their senses, they insisted they were scouts and they had been watching us to see if we were good people. We were more worried if _they_ were good people, but by that stage we were weary, we were out of food, almost out of gas, and we thought we had nothing to lose.

And that’s how we wound up at this place.”

Glenn lifted his hand and pointed out the window.

I struggled to lift myself, but my arms were too weak and simply shook like Jell-O. Sensing my struggle, Daryl tugged me up by the shoulders so I too could see what he was gawking at with his jaw hanging low.

We were approaching a huge wall, which scanned forever in both directions. A large iron gate was being rolled open by two heavily armed men.

Beyond the gates was a quaint little town, with brightly coloured two story homes, surrounded by neat and manicure gardens. Children were laughing and playing in the street. A man was walking his dog. A woman was pushing a stroller. Everyone was acting as if the turn had never even happened.

Glenn turned to us, beaming as he examined the expressions on our faces. “Welcome to the safe zone.”

* * *

 

All I could do was stare as the car pulled up into a parking lot beside the wall. Stare at the homes, and the gardens and the children, and the way everything was so perfect. And then all I could do was stare when Glenn got out and was greeted by my sister, looking clean and well groomed, and glowing with health.

Glenn spoke to her for a moment and then she looked over towards me, squealed, and ran to the car with her arms flailing excitedly.

Daryl pushed open the door as she approached, and she gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, before tossing him out of the way.

“Oh good lord in heaven, I knew it! I knew you were alive.” Maggie tugged me into her chest and squeezed me so hard I thought I might burst.

Then someone else was touching me, poking and scratching my thighs, and licking my face. I turned towards the mud stained white matts of fur and single good eye of a dog.

“Mix!” I choked, reaching my hands out to him carefully; afraid he might pop and disappear if I touched him.

“I knew when we found him, you couldn’t be far away!” Maggie went on, as she rocked me back and forth in her arms.

“Where…where did you find him?” I mumbled.

“He was hidin’ out in a dumpster with a couple o' kids.”

“Kids?” I squeaked, my blood freezing in my veins and my heart turning into one huge iceberg.

“Yeah. This smart mouthed little boy and a mute girl.”

I gripped onto Maggies arm and used every ounce of strength within me to pull myself up. “Get me out of here I need to see!” I squealed.

Maggie grunted and groaned as she dragged me out of the truck, and into Daryl’s waiting arms.

“Did you hear what I heard?” I asked, looking up to him.

His face was hard and pale, his eyes staring over the top of my head. I followed his gaze towards the neat and green lawn of one of the homes that fronted on to the main street. There was a boy standing there with a football under his arm. His piercing blue eyes stared out at the pair of us, no longer shadowed by the dark hair that was now cropped short. Beside him was a little girl, with bronze skin and golden curly hair blowing and tangling in the wind.

Austin and Winnie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> It was so hard not to give out spoilers when everyone was like; 'you killed ALL the children'.


	11. Home

Winnie’s eyes were warm and wide and bright, filled with innocent wonder and amazement. Austin’s eyes were cold, drawn into tight, dark slits, and filled with hatred and anger.

If looks could kill, I would be rotting by now.

I didn’t blame him for looking at me like that. I had believed him dead. I had been selfish at that moment when I had entered the bus and seen the lifeless bodies, and listened to Beth’s repetitive wail. I had been too gutless to bear facing the grim reality that all the kids were gone. I had focused all my attention on saving the last person I thought I had left. And because of my actions, two young kids had been left alone to fight some god-awful terror in an unknown world.

I could see they had been injured in that crash. With the way that bus had tumbled through the air and crashed over the earth, there was no way they couldn’t have been. Winnie’s leg was now in a splint and wrapped in white bandages dirty and beginning to fray at the edges. Austin had a noticeable red line running from his eyebrow across his forehead and disappearing into his hairline, and a bandage wrapped around his right hand. Whatever other injuries they had must have been minor, judging by the way they had been skipping over the grass, lunging for the ball and smiling, before they had spotted me.

Winnie was the first of the two to make a move towards us, stepping her stiff splinted leg forward with a wide, right smiling eyes and calling “Momma!” In Beth’s Direction.

Austin moved next, snapping his hand out and grabbed Winnie by the arm and then making a hasty retreat dragging the limping girl behind him.

Beth wriggled weakly in my arms, looking as if she was trying to get away from me, but pushing at me with all the force of a new born kitten.

“The kids!” She whimpered looking up to me with pleading eyes like she wanted me to let her go running after them. Only I knew if I let her go she wouldn’t be able to run, she wouldn’t even be able to stand.

I wanted to run after them myself, or to call after them, tell them to wait, or tell them I was sorry, but all that came out of my mouth was the senseless mutter of “Doctor.”

Maggie appeared in my peripheral vision, looking towards the line of two story timber boarded homes, that the kids had ran towards and disappeared in between.

“Follow me.” She muttered without moving her eyes form the homes as she stepped to the side, moving down the neat gravel road. “…did you know those kids?”

“Yes.” Beth whimpered, clutching on to my shirt. “Take me to them. Please!” She pled turning her dull eyes up to me.

Typical Beth, she was on deaths door and more concerned about the kids.

“They ain’t goin’ nowhere.” I swept her off her trembling legs and up in my arms, tucking her head under my chin and against my shoulder, in a n effort to discourage her from looking for the kids. “Le’me take care of you first.”

* * *

 

The medical clinic was simply a single story dwelling, stripped of all furnishings but beds and a few cabinets, cluttered with dusty medical journals, bottles, vials and small boxes.

We were greeted by the familiar face of Jane, the seventeen year old girl we had met back at Terminus, now looking slightly older. The trip from Terminus to here must have wizened her.

“You remember Daryl and Beth?” Maggie asked presenting us with a wave of her arm.

Jane eyed us over in wide eyed amazement, looking as if she wanted to embrace us, but then focusing her attention solely on Beth. Stepping past us, she beckoned for us to follow her into one of the adjoining rooms and hurried to clear a space on a bed.

“Dr Cloyd!” She called towards the hallway, before turning back to us with bright eyes and a smile on her face. “What happened to you two?”

I dropped Beth onto the bed, groaning at the release of tension in my back. “Long story, all you need to worry ‘bout now is Beth.”

Pouting, Jane nodded and began arranging the pillows around Beth’s frail looking body.

A woman with wild and curly red hair, and square rimmed glasses, came striding in, her eyes scanning over the pair of us cautiously and curiously and then resting on Beth, where they opened wide in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” The Doctor asked stepping towards Beth and pressing her fingers against her wrist.

“She’s been shot.” Glenn called, stepping into the tiny room behind me with Heath at his back.

“She’s my sister.” Maggie added, as she shifted herself on to the side of Beth’s bed and dropped a somewhat possessive hand on Beth’s thigh.

Dr Cloyd examined the blood stain that had seeped through Beth’s rose coloured medical scrubs and then tugged up the top and lifted the waistband of her pants to reveal the bandage with a growing circle of bright red blood. Her eyes shot over to Jane who was hovering by the bed, wringing her hands nervously.

“Get me my surgical kit, a bag of saline, the nitrous oxide and…” Her eyes drifted over the crowd of people and rested on Heath. “Roll up your sleeves; we may be needing more of your blood.”

For some reason I didn’t quite understand, I felt protective and somehow jealous. Glaring at Heath, almost with hatred, I growled. “I’m an O neg. She can have my blood.”

Dr Cloyd, who was now cutting away Beth’s bandage, regarded me with a frown on her face.

“Are you her dad?”

I sighed, frustrated that it seemed I was going to be asked that question by every stranger Beth and I met. “No I ain’t.” I growled.

Dr Cloyd, eyed me up and down carefully and then went back to tending to Beth, setting up her roll of surgical tools on the side of the bed besides Beth’s body.

“We prefer not to use the blood of partners. Not for women her age anyway. Heath is our resident blood bank.” She smiled warmly and affectionately up at Heath. “He is type O negative too. We know his blood is clean and healthy.” She scanned her eyes over me inn a doctorly examination type way. “And you don’t look like you’re in any state to be giving blood.”

“These will need to come down.” Dr Cloyd said tugging at Beth’s pants.

She called over her shoulder to the people filling ever space in the small room. “If you’re not in love with the girl, and you’re not assisting me, you need to leave.”

Taking the hint, Maggie and Glenn nodded their heads in agreement and backed towards the entry hall. “I’m gonna go tell the others you’re here.” Maggie said flashing me an excited grin before disappearing.

Dr Cloyd nodded her head over towards a stool pushed up against the wall. “Why don’t you take a seat.”

My legs started to go all numb and wobble beneath me, as I suddenly remembering how exhausted I was from the one and a half hours of carrying Beth, the fear of losing her, and then the excitement of being reunited with the group.

I hooked the stool with my foot, dragged it close to Beth’s bed and dropped down heavily on it, struggling to keep my balance. I took up Beth’s ice cold hand in mine and brushed a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

Smiling weakly, Beth gave my hand flutter of a squeeze.

“I’ll be okay.” She murmured softly, a glimmer of light in her eyes.

* * *

 

“That’s the last one.” Dr Cloyd said, tugging on the length of nylon thread and tying a small knot that would hold Beth’s red and inflamed skin together, and then dropping her tweezers into the nearby plastic tray that contained the .22 bullet and several small shards of bone.

“Is she gonna be okay?” I asked wearily, rubbing my eyes back to focus and then looking over the sleeping Beth. After one breath of the gas she had passed out. The doctor said more from exhaustion than anything else.

“Most of the damage is to her ilium. The hip bone.” DR Cloyd clarified. “And the fracture has branched into her pelvis. The bone will take some time to heal. All major organs were missed, thankfully, but it did tear a rather nasty hole through the illacus, and there was some pressure loss in the abdominal cavity, but I expect it won’t cause her too many problems.” She smiled reassuringly up at me. “It was lucky you left that bullet in. It was holding a major artery. She would have bled out long ago if you removed it.”

I glanced down to my damaged hand, for the first time feeling grateful that it had hindered me.

“Will she be okay with walkin’?”

Dr Cloyd frowned. “She may struggle at first. The pain will be the main problem. I’ll have to give her some therapy. Lucky I was a podiatrist before the outbreak.”

“A…foot doctor?”

“Yeah.” She flicked her hand dismissively through the air. “We have to know a lot about the leg as a whole, especially the hip.”

I was sure my tightening face revealed my sudden drop of confidence in the doctor.

“Don’t worry. I’ve pulled out dozens of bullets in the past two years. Gunshot wounds, Fractures. Lacerations. Amputations. They’re my specialty now.” She said with a nonchalant shrug.

“She’s a real good doctor.” Heath asserted, staring up at the doctor while pressing his hand against the gauze strip held against his donation site.

“She’ll be as good as gold, with a bit of love and care.” She winked at me and then looked over at Heath. “We’re just about out of antibiotics, you’ll have to make another run soon.”

“No we aren’t.” Heath replied with a smirk on his face.

“I checked last night all we have left is a few bottles of Amoxylin.”

Heath shook his head. “I went out this morning. Me and Glenn. We got a surprise for you and Maggie.”

Dr Cloyd quirked an eyebrow. “You know how I feel about surprises. And Maggie’s in no state for them either.”

“Trust me.” Heath said “You’ll both like this one.”

Dr Cloyd groaned unconvinced, and then glanced down at my three fingered hand gripped onto Beth’s at her side.

“Do you want me to take a look at that for you?”

Nodding I held it up to her.

She carefully pulled away the bandage and hummed thoughtfully.

“These stitches are just about ready to come out. Whoever did this did a fine job. I might even be able to make the fingers grow back.”

I squinted at her, my face contorted in suspicion. “What?”

She giggled. “I’m just kidding. They’re never coming back. But you’ll find you’ll get along just fine without them.”

I thought back the urge to cuss at her and mumbled agreement under my breath. I had done alright using just the three good fingers on my hand, but I would have to start practicing using my left hand if I ever wanted to have the skills I had before.

“Why don’t you take him to see Douglas?” Dr Cloyd asked turning to Heath. “He’ll be wanting to talk to him, and they’ll be needing a place to stay.”

I shook my head. “Nah, I’ll stay here, with Beth. That stuff can wait.”

“She won’t be doing anything but sleeping I assure you.” Dr Cloyd said. “I need to watch her for a few more hours. So why don’t you go see about finding her a bed for me to discharge her to when she wakes up?”

Groaning and stretching, Heath stood and gently tapped on my shoulder as he pushed past me heading towards the entry hall. “C’mon. No point arguin’ with the doc. You won’t win.”

I looked up at Dr Cloyd, with her arms crossed and her jaw set firm and commanding. Seeing logic in checking out the place, finding out if the leader was in anyway insane, and looking for the rest of our people, I decided not to challenge her.

I bent over Beth’s fragile sleeping body and murmured promises against her forehead that I would be back soon.

“Thanks Doc.” I managed a smile for the woman with bad doctor humour who had saved Beth’s life, before following Heath through the door into the main hall.

The hall had filled with several new bodies in the hours that Dr Cloyd had been working on Beth. Jane was walking between them, talking to them and taking down notes, looking very nurse like.

One of the patients that looked healthier than the rest stared up at me with wide eyed wonder as I walked past the row of sick bodies. He was wearing a policeman’s uniform, sky blue shirt with navy slacks, a black utility belt wrapped around his waist, and a gleaming badge on his breast pocket. His face was clean shaven and his curly dark hair was cropped short.

I cleared my suddenly tight throat and forced out his name. “Rick?”

Grinning, Rick took a single step toward me and tugged me in for a hug, wrapping an arm around my waist and another over my shoulder. I held my body in tension at first, feeling awkward and uncomfortable being held by someone who wasn’t smaller and softer than me.

I had never been hugged by a man before. My dad would never have even thought of it, and Merle would’ve called me a pansy if I ever tried hugging him. But Rick had always been a better brother than Merle, and it felt kind of nice, like he was sharing his strength with me.

I hesitantly crossed my arms over his back and gave him a fumbling pat on the back before dropping my arms and waiting for him to let go of me, unsure of the protocol for man hugs.

“How is she?” Rick asked, stepping back to reveal unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

I gave my face a quick rub in an effort to deter any tears that might try to make their way out of my own eyes.

“She’s gonna be a’right.” I smiled weakly, struggling to show enthusiasm. I was overwhelmed with relief at being reunited with the others, getting Beth to a doctor on time, and seeing the kids again, felt to emotionally drained to do anything but look sullen.

Rick smiled and gave my shoulders a re-assuring squeeze. “Can I see her?”

“She’s sleepin’ now. Heath was ‘bout to take me to see this Douglas guy.”

Rick looked to Heath over his shoulder and then waved him away. “I can talk to Douglas.”

Looking relieved, Heath waved goodbye to the congregation in the hall and then made his way out the front door.

“You need to come and see ‘Chonne.” Rick said, sliding a hand into the middle of my back and urging me forward. “She waited for ages, but Judith got restless so she took her on home.”

My heart kind of fluttered a little at the thought of seeing that little sweetheart again. “Lil’ ass kicker.” I murmured under my breath.

Rick pushed open the door and we stepped out on to the porch of the doctor’s clinic and down the stairs into the bright midday sunlight. I examined the picture perfect street, the sounds of adult chatter and laughter and the squeals of playing children.

“The others will want to see you too.” Rick said, leading the way forward. “They’re all out doin’ their jobs. We’ve all got jobs now. Like real jobs. Abe’s on the wall crew. Bob and Sasha are runners. Rosita and Maggie help out in supplies. Michonne takes shifts up on the wall and Carl helps out when he’s not at school.” He tugged at the navy tie that hung down from his neck. “I kinda got my old job as sheriff back.” He grinned up at me, eyes gleaming. “ I’ll be needing a deputy… Until Carl comes of age of course.” He cocked an eyebrow as if he was suggesting that I could be a likely candidate for the role.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. Me. A lawman?

“Nah.” I said with a shake of my head.

He chuckled and patted me lightly on the back. “Not now. Not today. Once you’re settled.”

“I ain’t no cop, Rick. I ain’t even good at followin’ the law. I ain’t never even had a proper job my whole life.”

“Well.” Rick placed an authoritatively firm hand down on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He’s eyes fixed on my face, stern, as if he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Now you do.”

All I could do was shake my head and smile, thinking about the time many months ago. The same day that Zach died. The same day I first saw Beth as anything other than a friend. Back at the Big spot, when Michonne laughed at the idea of me having such a job, and I didn’t blame her.

“Don’t look like there’s much need for a deputy ‘round here...Kinda reminds me of Woodbury.” I looked up and down at the peaceful street, surrounded by the Pleasantville style white houses. It was certainly a good farce, if a farce was what it was.

Rick Shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many domestic disturbances I have to break up over nonsense. ‘My neighbour drained the battery.’ ‘That kid kicked a ball at my window.’ ‘His grass is greener than mine.’ You would think people had forgotten that the real threat is out there.” He nodded his head towards the high concrete wall surrounding the town.

“And this Douglas. He a’right?”

“Yeah.” Rick grinned as if remembering an inside joke. “He’s a bit soft. A bit resistant to change. But all in all a good man. Certainly ain’t no Governor.”

Unconsciously my hand drifted to the bandage that covered the space where my fingers once were. “There’re worse out there than the governor.”

Ricks eyes flicked down to where my fingers probed the bandage then back up to my face with a look of wary caution in his eye. “What happened to you two out there anyway?”

“We rode right in to devils’ lair and dined with Satan himself.” I shrugged trying to look casual and nonchalant, hoping Rick didn’t see the fear and weakness I felt. “Beth took care of him, but he’s still got his minions out there.”

Ricks eyebrows raised in surprise. “ _Beth_ killed this…Satan?”

Nodding I replied “Yep.”

Rick made a thoughtful and amused sound, and then shrugged. “If he’s really as bad as that, I would think his men would be thankin’ you, not chaisn’ you. Remember how everyone at Woodbury felt about the governor?”

I shrugged, Unsure of how strong their loyalty to their sadistic leader could be. I could only hope Rick was right.

Sensing my scepticism, Rick knocked me reassuringly on the shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that now; you’re with your family.” He smiled in an effort to comfort me, and my lips twitched a smile in response.

“I’ll talk to Douglas personally.” Rick went on. “He’ll take you in without any hesitation. I’ll get him to put you and Beth up in a nice house. Think the one next door to ours is vacant.”

My lip twitch blew out into a full smile at the almost humours idea of being neighbours to Rick. Sure we had lived in close quarters at the prison, but being neighbours in an actual house; Borrowing lawn mowers and cups of sugar. It all seemed so surreal.

“We gonna have Sunday cook outs?” I mocked playfully.

Rick flashed me a toothy grin. “We do actually have those.”

I tried to imagine things I had never had before, and never thought I would. Like neighbourly barbecue’s and Beth and I sitting out on the porch sipping on ice tea and watching the kids play with Mix on the front lawn. The very idea of it seemed beyond ridiculous. I would at least need to get the kids to forgive me first.

“You got some kids come through here; sometime in the last two weeks. A boy named Austin and a girl named Winnie?”

Rick’s brow creased in sudden interest. “Yeah I know ‘em. They’ve been staying with ‘chonne and I.” Rick turned and pointed a finger. “See that house over there? The one with the blue entry door?”

I turned my head to the house Rick was pointing out; identical to the houses that surrounded it, the only noticeable difference being the blue door and a cockerel shaped weather vane on the porch. “That’s our house.”

“You and…’Chonne?”

“Yeah. Me, ‘Chonne, Carl, Judith, and those kids.”

I raised an eyebrow and smirked at his sheepish looking grin.

“It’s not like that…it’s for safety. Security.” Rick said guiltily, making a hasty backwards retreat.

I nodded my head condescendingly. “Sure.”

“It is. No point in her being in a house all alone, and I needed help with…”He waved a dismissive hand and turned back to the street. “I’ll tell you all about it later. I gotta get back to doing the rounds. Someone mighta lost a kitten or somethin’. You best go see ‘Chonne before she comes lookin’ to kick my ass.”

I watched him as he walked away with a grin on his face and a skip in his step. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him look so happy. If this place was truly as good as it seemed, it was almost worth all the shit Beth and I had been through to get here. It would certainly make us appreciate it more.

I turned back to Rick and Michonne’s house and made my way over the neat lawn and up the recently swept steps to the door with a welcome mat in front of it. I stopped before it and stared down, smirking to myself and shaking my head.

I raised my fist to knock on the door and hesitated. Even knocking on a door seemed weird. I hadn’t done it for two years now. It almost seemed comical.

Before my knuckles had even connected with the door, it swung open and Michonne came rushing out at me, tugging me into an embrace almost as strong as Rick’s. When she was done squeezing the life out of me she stepped back and affectionately slapped me on the back of the head.

“Don’t you ever do that to us again!” She said in a firm, but humoured manner.

I lowered my eyes feeling uncomfortable with all the affection I had been receiving today. Not that I didn’t like it, or want it, I just wasn’t used to feeling loved so much by anyone but Beth.

A movement behind Michonne caught my eye and I raised my eyes to the tiny form with caramel hair, big blue eyes and rosy cheeks that toddled towards me.

“She can walk?” I dropped to a knee and held my arms out to Lil Ass Kicker, hoping she would remember me after so many months.

It seems that she did, toddling straight into my arms, and allowing me to pick her up. “Hey lil’ ass kicker.” I brushed my good fingers over her tiny chubby hand, feeling the baby soft skin that I had always found so soothing after a long hard day back at the prison.

“You just missed her birthday.” Michonne said, smiling affectionately at the two of us, and stepping through the threshold into the home.

“Looks like I missed a lot. Hey sweetheart?” I kissed her on her soft curls, and then carried her into the house following Michonne.

The inside of the house looked like a family home from a sitcom, fully furnished with sofas and tables and ornamental furniture that made no sense to have, even before the turn.

Bright sunlight entered the netted curtains and fell on a soft and clean rug. Toys were strewn over the floor. Dolls and building blocks, and cars. Things that I knew Carl wouldn’t play with, and were probably too old for Lil Ass Kicker.

The two most likely candidates for ownership of the toys were standing in the far doorway glaring at me. One looking angry and the other looking confused.

Handing Judith to Michonne, I fumbled my way forward towards them, trying to think of what I was going to say to make up for what we did. Not that anything I said _could_ make up for it.

Much like before Austin grabbed hold of Winnie and dragged her through the open doorway that connected to the living room and out of sight. This time I gave chase, slipping through the hall and pushing through the door that Austin tried to slam in my face.

He pushed up against the door, grunting and groaning as he tried to force it closed against me, but all it needed was a shoulder to get through it.

“Just let me talk to you kid.” I forced the door forward, sending him onto his hands and knees. He clamoured to his feet and stood before me defiantly with his hands clenched by his side, and his mouth in a furious pout. The cut that went across his forehead looked like it had only had stitches recently removed.

I dropped to both knees before him and held my arms out placating.

“I thought you were dead, Awse. I thought you all were.”

“Well we weren’t!” He spat back angrily.

“I know. I see that. I shoulda known you were a survivor. I shoulda checked on you but…” I swallowed back the tightness that was growing in my throat and extending down through my guts. “I was afraid Awse. I was afraid to see you…”

“ _You_ were afraid?” He forcefully shoved me in the chest. “I had to carry a stupid little girl with a stupid broken leg with a gazillion stinkin’ dead things chasin’ after me tryin’ to eat me!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head as I thought about the two kids escaping alone through the herd of walkers. “I Know, I’m sorry...”

“Your’e sorry?” He interrupted, an angry sneer on his face. “Are you sorry that we had to sleep out in the freezin’ cold? Are you sorry we had to drink rain water off leaves? Are you sorry that it was a dumb dog who came back for us, and not lyin’ assholes who said they cared about us?”

He pulled his arm backward and swung his fist forward into my chest. It was predictable, but still a good hit, that knocked the air right out of my lungs and doubled me over.

“You left us alone asshole!” He shrieked, while continuing to pummel me with his fists, his bandaged hand hitting just as hard as his good one. His little fists were tenderizing me like a fillet of steak, and my chest ached and throbbed, but I didn’t try to stop him. He needed it, and it was a softer punishment than what I felt I deserved.

“Alone!” He cried over and over while hs punches got weaker and weaker and his little body swayed from side to side with exhaustion. When he got to the point he was about to collapse I pulled him hard against my bruised chest.

“I’m sorry kid.” I muttered into his hair as his tears soaked through my shirt. “I’m sorry.” I repeated looking up at Winnie who had been standing back silently watching the scene play out before her.

I held out an arm to her, wondering if she wanted to hit me too, and hoping I could offer her my shoulder over my tender chest.

Without hesitation Winnie stepped forward, letting me slip my fingers into her shirt, tug her forward and wrap the pair of them up in my arms.

“I’ll never leave you again.”

* * *

 

Austin would take time to warm up to me again, I could tell that by the way he would tense up whenever I moved near him, and give me a side eyed glare when he thought I wasn’t watching. But he wasn’t running from me anymore, he wasn’t trying to hit me anymore and he at least made the effort of answering my questions about his days of survival with single syllables and grunts.

Winnie on the other hand behaved as if nothing had ever happened, perching herself on my knee and telling me of their ‘adventures’ with Mix. Camping in the woods, hiding in the attic of a half burnt out home, and finally being found in the dumpster by Glenn and Michonne.

Michonne stared at Winnie wide eyed while she spoke, and later insisted that she had never made a sound before this day.

Despite the opposing attitudes they each gave me, they seemed equally concerned and eager to see how Beth was recovering, and I was eager to get rid of the twisting feeling in my guts, worrying about her waking up without me nearby. Or not waking up at all.

By the time I had got out of Rick and Michonne’s house, the sun was nearing the horizon, and the outside street was bustling with people, looking like they had just knocked off work.

The medical clinic was empty again except for Dr Cloyd who was scribing something into a note book. She looked up at us all, smiled and waved as through towards Beth’s room.

Maggie was in the room seated beside Beth, gripping her hand. As I entered the she smiled at me then she silently stood up and away allowing us to move closer to the still form on the bed.

Beth lay flat on her back with her head sunken into the soft white pillow. The sheet was tucked under her arms, hiding any of the doctor’s handy work. Beth’s frail looking hands were clasped together over her belly, almost protectively. Her dark and thin looking eyelids were still closed, and she looked just as pale as she had when I had first lay her down on that bed, but now she had a promising pink tinge to her cheeks.

“Is she alive?” Winnie whispered, tugging urgently on my hand, her eyes filled with fear.

Answering Winnie’s question, Beth’s eyes sprung open and she turned her head to the side, her lips quirking into a smile as she eyed over Winnie then me holding Judith, and then Austin who was still lingering back in the doorway.

Winnie’s hand slipped out of my grip and she flew over to Beth, jumping up on to the bed and wrapping her arms around her neck.

Beth huffed and groaned in pain as she shifted the little girl into a more comfortable position by her side.

“Careful.” I cautioned, stepping forward and attempting to grab Winnie by the ankle to pull her away.

“She’s okay.” Beth insisted, pulling the little girl in closer and moving her hand though her tangle of curls.

Looking to Judith sitting on my hip, she beckoned with her free arm, and I carefully placed the toddler down on the bed beside her so she could wrap an arm around her.

“Look at you both. You got so big.” She kissed them each on the forehead.

Judith babbled to her excitedly, seeming to recall that she was the person who had taken care of her for the first eight months of her life.

“And you.” She turned her head and held her hand towards Austin. “I almost didn’t recognise you, you look so big and brave and strong.”

Hesitantly and with his eyes to the floor, Austin edged his way closer until he was close enough for Beth to touch him.

Tears welled in her eyes, and then dropped down over her cheek, as her hand brushed over his face, through his hair, and caught him on the back of the neck, where she tugged him closer to her, grunting in pain as he pressed up against her side.

After a moment of whispers and tears, Beth looked back up to me with a smile on her face. “Did you hear?” She said, turning her eyes to her sister.

“Hear what?”

“Maggie. Her and Glenn are havin’ a baby.” There was a slight curve to Beth’s lips, as if the news brought her happiness, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, they seemed somehow pained and sad as if thinking of the memory of a lost loved one.

Back at the hospital I had helped them lift a bulky enclosed crib onto the truck and put it alongside a machine with a monitor attached, and a few bags of medical supplies. I had never bothered asking what it was all for. I figured the crib had been for a newborn baby, but I thought it could have been for anyone. But then Heath had said it was a surprise for Maggie.

“I thought as much.” I reached an arm towards Maggie, hesitating a little just before touching her, not quite used to initiating affectionate touching with anyone but Beth and the kids. Maggie closed the distance herself, wrapping her arm around my waist and tugging me into her side.

“You knew.” Beth said looking up at me with that same pained expression of loss. “You can be observant when you want to be.”

Beth pulled the bodies of the two little girls into her, curling them around her small frame, and then tugged Austin in by the wrist so she could drape her arm over his stiff shoulders.

“Maggie will have her baby, and I’ll have mine.” She said in a voice, soft and as filled with mixed emotion as the expression on her face.


	12. Live

 

I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and softness, and the familiar smells or Daryl's unwashed hair. All of the comforts that I was loathe to leave in the mornings. I stretched my toes downwards exploring the cold depths, and then stretched an arm out reaching for something I wanted to pull myself into and finding the space was empty and unexpectedly cold.

I forced an eye open to examine the space beside me, the space that had been filled with Daryl's body warmth only moments earlier. It was empty now, twisted sheets being the only evidence that sleeping last night, nuzzled against his chest, was not all in my imagination.

A thin line of light seeped between the thick drapes of the bedroom window, signalling it was day time, and from behind me I heard the tell-tale screech of a tap being shut off, and then the shuffling of a shower curtain being drawn back.

I balled my hands into fists and rubbed them against my eyes, clearing away the blurs, then I stretched my hands high above my head, arched my back and groaned at the release of tension, catching my breath shortly when the stretch pulled too hard on the healing wound on my hip.

The light in the room changed, and I turned towards its source, the shadow of Daryl silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, his ever lengthening hair pasted damply to his brow, a towel hanging loosely off his hips, his chest still glistening wet.

"Mornin'." I murmured sleepily as I pulled myself into a seated position allowing the covers to fall to my waist.

Daryl's eyes examined my face and then drifted over my exposed breasts, his lips quirking slightly.

"Mornin'." He said jerking his head away and stepping towards the dresser, where his clothes had fallen on the floor, not quite making it into the drawers as I had suggested.

Dr Cloyd had told us to take it easy. No strenuous activity. Daryl had taken it quite literal, avoiding touching me in any place that might excite him enough to ignore doctor's orders, or excite me enough to force him to.

Of course my need to be with him had only intensified since we had got into our own place, with our own bed. I had chosen to torture him by sleeping naked and pressing my backside into him several times throughout the night, to see if I could get a reaction. His body reacted without fail, but his willpower was too strong, and his only response was to grunt at me in frustration.

I crawled over the blankets, prowling like an alley cat, then balancing on the edge of the bed I tugged his towel, drawing him into me and removing it from his hips in one motion.

"Beth." He chastised, grabbing for the towel that was slipping around his knees.

"I'm feeling much better." I insisted, bringing my body upright so that my lips could reach his.

Grabbing his whiskered chin between my thumb and forefinger, I pulled his jaw down, opening his mouth and allowing access for a tender flick of my tongue.

He groaned and shuddered and then swallowed hard as he took a reluctant step back.

"Doctor's orders." He pulled his eyes from my lips, down to his crumpled jeans on the floor, and began to tug them on in a rushed fumbling motion.

I scoffed in annoyance, and slipped off the bed, catching my hand in his jeans as he attempted to button them up.

"These are Beth's orders." I murmured as I dipped my hand in and wrapped it around the length of him. The feel of him hardening in my hand gave away that his desire was as strong as mine.

"God damn it, Beth." He grunted, dropping his pants to the floor then stepping forward, catching me behind the back and lowering me down on the bed.

His teeth bit roughly on my lower lip, as if in punishment, and then he trailed a line of nips and licks and moistened kisses over my chin and to the column of my throat, while his hand pushed back gently on my collar bone forcing my back to meet the dishevelled covers of the bed.

I gasped in anticipation, and in surprise, not thinking it would be so easy to seduce him when he had been so well in control of his urges up until this point.

I lifted my arms over my head, and dropping my knees out to the side in a display of absolute surrender, and closed my eyes so that I could focus entirely on the sensation of his warm, moist lips moving over my body.

"You, Miss Greene." He muttered blowing ticklish air against my sensitized skin. "Are god damn insatiable."

"I am." I murmured in agreement, arching my back to meet his gentle touch.

"Sometimes I think what's between y' legs takes over what's between y' ears." He nipped lightly at the skin above my naval, causing me to squirm and giggle.

"Mmm Hmm."

His kisses became softer and slower as he approached the wound site on my hip; The tickling sensation mingling with a dull ache to produce an unusually warm and pleasant tingling sensation.

His lips finally stopped, unfelt, just on top of the padded gauze that covered the still tender gunshot wound.

"Lucky, one of us has some sense, 'ey?"

I opened my eyes as the bed rocked and the warmth of his body pulled away from me.

"What?" I asked, stunned, propping myself up on my elbows.

"Doctor's orders." He said waving a commanding finger at me, before turning to his clothes on the floor.

I huffed, blowing the strands of hair that crossed my face up and away.

"It's been over a week, I'm dyin' here." All the built up sexual frustration and tension was apparent in my tight voice.

"You're dyin'?" He scoffed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "I ain't the one forcin' my hot ass up against y' cock e'ry night."

He backed his way to the chair by the bedroom window, where his ragged sleeveless shirt and leather vest lay.

"Why don't you wear the uniform Rick gave you?" I nodded to the pile of clothes on the dresser, still neatly folded and untouched.

He scoffed and shook his head. "I ain't wearin' no collars and ties."

"Why not? I think you'd look mighty sexy in a uniform."

He smirked up at me, slipping his arms into his angel winged vest. "Last thing I need is to be encouragin' your libido."

He turned to the window and pulled back the drapes, filling the room with cool morning light, and then looked down into the street below.

"How's it look out there?" I asked, referring to the weather.

It was starting to warm up, approaching summer, and I was keen to be able to wear a summer dress without feeling the chill. Due to my inability to dress properly, I had been living in nothing but dresses over the past week.

Daryl stared out the window, still and focused. "Perfect." He mumbled, emotionless.

Sensing his discomfort I dragged myself from the bed and limped up behind him, holding him around the waist, and lifting myself to my tip toes so I could rest my chin on his shoulder.

"Perfect is supposed to be good, you know."

He shook his head. "I don't know how t' do perfect. I'm better when everythin' is shit. 'least I know shit."

I dropped my feet back flat on the floor, and grabbed both of his shoulders to turn him around to face me.

"Now that's a lie if I ever heard one, you've been perfect for both the good and the bad."

He fought the smile, but the side of his lip quirked as evidence he at least partially believed me.

"Guess I just gotta get used t' havin' a perfect life, with a perfect house and a perfect job…" His hands dropped down and gripped me roughly on the behind drawing him against me. "… and a perfect girl pushin' her perfect ass into me at night."

Wriggling away from him slightly to relieve the pressure on my wound, I looked up into his eyes and teased playfully, "We'll have a perfect family, and our perfect dog will play on the perfect lawn, and I'll pack my husband a perfect lunch before he goes to work."

Daryl's body tensed beneath my grip, his eyes suddenly going wide and focused. He looked angry, or confused, or scared.

Yes, that was fear I saw.

"I was just playin'." I said waving a casual hand through the air to shift away the tension.

Dropping his eyes, his hands left my backside and went to his hips, and slipped down into his pockets. His left hand fumbled around for a moment, the denim of his jeans jumping with movement. It was a nervous habit he had picked up ever since we had come to the safe zone.

He looked back up at me frowning. "I know y' were."

He pushed past me gently and moved to the nightstand where he collected his knife and slipped it into the sheath on his belt. He glanced up at me quickly, the muscles in his face still held tight as if something was on his mind.

"Get dressed so I can help y' down the stairs 'fore I go."

I did as I was told going to the tall dresser to find an outfit to wear that day. I smiled to myself while I lifted up the pale blue collared shirt Rick had given Daryl and held it up against my chest.

"Do you think I would look good in a policewoman's outfit?" I asked playfully with a purse of my lips, as I modelled the shirt.

Smiling, he sat on the bed to pull on his worn leather boots. I had insisted he leave them by the front door, but he wasn't one to follow house rules.

"I think you'd look good in anythin'."

I folded the shirt back up and put it back on the dresser on top the navy slacks and opened the drawers to rummage through for an outfit to wear.

"What _should_ I do?" I asked, pushing aside a pair of jeans I wished I was able to pull on.

"What should y' do?"

"Yeah. For work. Maggie works in the depository, Sasha works in the tower, Eugene works in the factory, Glenn goes on runs, you're a cop. What should I do?"

I heard him scoff behind me. "Y' won't be doin' nothin' for a while yet."

I shrugged. "I know, but I'll have to eventually. Rick, Michonne and Carl seem to be able to handle Judith without me now." I frowned down to the folded clothing as I thought about the little girl who I no longer had to myself. It was better that way of course, she should be with her family, and I needed to focus on our little ragtag family anyway.

"Winnie and Austin are goin' to school. It makes no sense for me to sit around and be a… _housewife_."

I felt Daryl come up behind me, and his strong arms crossed me over my chest.

"Runs, Tower, Wall, Policewoman." He spoke softly into my ear. "You can do anythin' y' wanna do."

I turned my head to face him. "Really? You would let me?"

He scoffed and stepped away, smiling. "Whattaya mean _let you_. You're a big girl, you can handle y'self."

I flashed him a grin, and then went back to the task of dressing, deciding on a yellow cotton summer dress, embroidered with small flowers.

It was much easier to tug something over my head than it was to pull something over my legs. Although I still had to get Daryl to help me with my underwear, and he squirmed with discomfort as his eyes tried to look everywhere but at what the underwear was covering.

Satisfied I had tormented him enough for the morning, I limped into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face and tried to wrangle the mess of my hair into a pony tail.

Daryl smiled at my presentable appearance, handed me my new knife and belt that he insisted I not leave the house without, and then slipped an arm behind my back and half supported half carried me down the stairs.

Winnie and Austin had moved in with us the day after we had come to the safe zone; Winnie willingly, and Austin with encouragement. We had set them up in their own rooms on the ground floor, while Daryl and I took the bedroom in the upper floor. I had kind of regretted that idea afterward, tackling the stairs had been painful with my injured hip, but it was nice to have our own space.

My crutches were waiting for me at the foot of the stairs where I had left them every day. They were old wooden ones, scratched and drawn on, and the padding was losing its stuffing. As ugly and uncomfortable as they were, every time I used them my heart would flutter a little, remembering daddy and the way he used to swing himself around the prison after his leg was amputated.

The children were already up and dressed and playing on the floor of the living room when Daryl and I entered.

Daryl gave Austin a pat on the shoulder to say goodbye, who now seemed to be warming back up to him since his hunting trip the other day. He caught Winnie as she bounded of the sofa and into his arms to hug him goodbye, kissed me and reminded me we were having dinner with Rick that night, and went off to his job as a safe zone police officer.

I spent the rest of the morning, fixing the children the best breakfast I could with only tinned fruit, stale cereal and powdered milk available. Then I brushed Winnie's tangle of hair while drilling Austin on his timetables. It seemed he didn't remember much of what I taught him back at the school, or he liked to pretend he didn't.

We left the house about an hour after Daryl, walking across our porch past the white painted wicker lounge chairs with the tropical leave printed cushions that Mix had claimed as his bed. We descended the creaking steps and walked down our cobblestone path, past our neat gardens filled with violet hued vincas, and out through the gate of our white picket fence.

It seemed that Daryl wouldn't need to build me that picket fence after all, but he may need to give it a coat of paint.

Smiling to myself at the thought of Daryl in overalls with white paint splashed over his face and in his hair, I followed Austin and Mix down the sidewalk, with Winnie walking slowly beside me on her recovering leg, while I swung myself along on the crutches.

The neighbours waved at us as we past, some of them calling out our names, and I called back to the ones whose names I could remember. Giving up entirely as we turned down the street the school was on. I simply hadn't been here long enough to remember the names of people who didn't live on our street.

The school house had been converted from a regular house, just like the medical clinic, but this one had an array of playground equipment made from scrap material, and huddles of children playing skipping and ball games on the front lawn.

The inside of the building was cleared of all regular furniture and filled with lines of mix matched dining and patio furnishings that served as school desks and chairs.

The school teacher was a woman of about Daryl's age named Deidre who had worked as a high school teacher before the turn. I always found it intimidating when I spoke to her. If the world hadn't fallen apart, she could have been teaching me.

As intimidating as she was, I still found the strength to stand proud as a mature woman and approach her when I dropped the kids off.

She was marching through the tables, grizzling at the kids that wouldn't settle into their places and looking more frazzled than usual.

She glanced up at me as she past, noticing me watching her.

"We've got another three students joining us today." She blurted out along with an exasperated breath. "I've asked to split the classes and have students attend on alternate days, but Douglas won't have it. Says the kids need to be kept busy so the parents can work."

Frustrated, she tossed the bundle of books in her hands onto a nearby desk. "That's all teachers are I guess; Glorified babysitters."

"No." I protested. "Teachers are much more than that. You hold the future generation in your hands. What you teach them now is what they'll use to repair this world in the future."

She pressed her lips into a firm line of doubt. "I won't be able to teach them anything if I don't get some help."

I went to touch her hand in support and stopped short as a thought hit me. "You know, I was a teacher. Before."

She peered down her nose at me in scrutiny.

"I mean. I worked at a school. I taught eleven children." I swallowed back the lump of tension that grew in my throat at the memory of the lost children. The joy of finding Winnie and Austin had only numbed some of the pain.

"I could help you." I insisted.

Deidre eyed over my crutches and screwed her nose up distastefully. "The kids will run you off your feet."

"Maybe not today." I said with a shrug. "But when I'm better, I would be delighted to help you."

Deidre's face slowly softened into a smile.

"I would be delighted to have your help."

* * *

After I had said goodbye to the children I took the short stroll ─ or swing─ into the centre of town, smiling all the way as I thought about my new job as a teacher. It was perfect really, as much as I would love to help protect the town, it wasn't in my nature to be violent, it was just for necessity, and I had had my fair share of violence anyway.

There were more purpose built buildings in the centre of the town; A town hall with a large bell tower that was used to alert the safe zone of emergencies, a factory where Eugene worked on projects to better the community, and a large warehouse that served as the depository where Maggie worked.

Maggie had insisted I meet her there that morning to show me something exciting. I had no idea what it could be, but given the depository served as something of a store, I figured it would be shoes or clothes, or something that I might have been interested in before the turn.

I entered the building, pushing through a small huddle of people collecting their rations, and made my way over to the counter that Maggie was standing behind folding clothes, and arranging them by against labels of size and gender.

I scanned over the shelves of goods varying form necessities such as food and clothing and toiletries, to luxuries, such as alcohol, sporting equipment, and stationary. My eyes rested on a Polaroid camera, sitting on a shelf among other pieces of electrical equipment which wouldn't be used unless Eugene came up with a way to produce enough power to waste on luxuries.

"Hey Maggie. Do you think I could have that camera?"

Maggie jumped at the sound of my voice, not realising I had been standing there. She glanced at the camera and then back to me.

"You have to barter for everythin' in here that isn't part of your ration allocation. I doubt you wanna give up any food with four mouths to feed."

"No I don't…but you _are_ my sister."

Maggie, swung her head from side to side, examining the other workers in the depository. "I shouldn't."

"Daryl would really love it." I insisted.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah he's quite the photographer."

"Daryl a photographer?" She laughed to herself, turning to grab the camera. "This I have to see."

She slipped the camera secretively into her canvas bag, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching, and then swung the bag over her shoulder and ushered me away from the counter and out of the depository.

Once outside and walking down the sidewalk she produced the camera and handed it to me.

"Here you go. Now you make sure you show me some of these pictures photographer Daryl takes."

Lacking a bag or anywhere else to put the thing, I looped the strap around my belt and let it hang against my good hip.

"So what was so important today? Why did you want me to meet you?"

Maggie grinned and skipped her step a little. "Dr Cloyd has finally figured out how to work the ultrasound machine Glenn and Heath picked up the other day."

Both excitement and apprehension built up in my belly and slipped through my mouth as a squeal, "We get to see the baby?"

Maggie nodded. "I hope so, as long as she knows what she's doin'."

Glenn had been waiting for us outside the clinic, leaning against the timber siding by the door. He straightened himself and smiled to the pair of us as we made our way up the steps, leaning forward to help me up with my crutches.

The clinic was empty of the sick this morning, only Jane was in the front room sifting through bottles and assorted medical equipment. She looked up from her work and smiled sweetly as we entered.

"She's ready for you." She said, pointing down the hall. "I think she's more excited about it than you are."

"I doubt that." Glenn said, "Maggie was up all night threatening to neuter me if I didn't make it here on time."

Maggie playfully pushed him forward and I followed the pair of them into the same room I had been taken to when we first arrived at the safe zone.

"Oh you're here!" Dr Cloyd said jumping up excitedly from her spot on a stool in front of a piece of machinery I assumed was for the ultrasound. "Lay down and loosen your jeans for me, I need to get down low." She demanded, pushing Maggie towards the bed.

Maggie obeyed, laying back and unzipping her jeans to expose the slight curve of her belly.

Dr Cloyd turned up a bottle and squirted a small bit of liquid onto Maggie's exposed skin. "We're supposed to use a lot of lubrication to help the transducer move about, but we don't know how long this is going to last us, so we'll keep it minimal for now. You'll have to excuse me if it rubs."

She picked up the handpiece attached to the larger machine by a long coiled wire and smoothed the liquid around on Maggie's belly.

"I had to use these machines before you know?" Dr Cloyd informed us, as she moved the handpiece from side to side, and the image of grey and black lines shifted on the screen. "Of course I used mine mainly to view muscles and ligaments. But the principal is all the same, I just have to find a ─ oh look, there it is."

Dr Cloyd pointed her finger to the screen to a dark jelly bean shaped blob.

"What is it?" Glenn asked, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Look that's the head, that's the body, these are the arms there ─ look its waving."

Sure enough I could make out on the screen the form of a little person with a head and body and limbs, and it was moving. A lot.

"I see it." Glenn said, a huge smile spreading over his face. He reached for Maggie's hand and squeezed it so hard I could see her fingers turning white. Maggie didn't seem to mind, she just stared at the screen wide eyed.

"Is it supposed to move that much?" She asked.

"Sure, why not. But it may make it difficult for me to measure."

With a look of concentration on her face Dr Cloyd, began clicking buttons on her machine, and moving cursors around on the screen.

"There we go. From crown to rump it's a little over three inches. That means you are about fourteen weeks pregnant."

I pulled my eyes away from the screen to smile proudly back at Maggie, who was now sobbing into her hand, her eyes bright with joy.

"Is it a boy?" Glenn asked excitedly, before getting a jab in the ribs by Maggies elbow.

Dr Cloyd laughed and shook her head. "I can't tell yet, it's too early. Maybe if I knew more about what I was doing… For now I think you might have to wait until it's bigger for me to find out finer details like that."

"We don't need to know." Maggie insisted, glaring at Glenn before turning her eyes back at the doctor. "Thank you for showin' us what you could. It's a relief to know that everythin' is okay, and to know how much time we got to prepare." She expelled a shaky, anxious sounding breath.

"You're welcome." Dr Cloyd said as she put the handpiece back on the machine. "I'm just as curious as you to know how everything is going. This machine is going to be my new favourite toy."

"We'll leave you to play with it then. Maggie said as she pulled herself to a seating position. "We've got to get back to our shifts."

"Would you like a picture?" Dr Cloyd asked as she fiddled around with her machine.

Maggie's eyes were wide with surprise once again. "Can you do that?"

"Sure. I can't give you a heap, but I'm sure I could manage one." Dr Cloyd fussed around with a flap of paper sticking out of a horizontal slot in the machine.

She pressed a button and after a wind and a click, the paper slipped through producing an image of about four by four inches. She tore it off and handed it to Maggie.

"There you go, baby's first picture."

Maggie examined the picture and then beamed at Glenn. "You'll have to get a frame on your next run."

Smiling at the picture, Glenn nodded and then pulled my sister in for a kiss on the cheek.

They looked so happy and contented with the news of a new bundle of joy, as if the fears of the outside world had all disappeared and the only thing that mattered in this world was the three of them.

The sinking feeling I had felt ever since I had been shot started to grow in my belly again. I had never confirmed what had been going on with me, why I had been so sick and emotional and why my body was changing. I hadn't bled for months, which wasn't all that unusual, but I hadn't bled since I had been shot either, which I guessed was a good sign.

Maggie and Glenn stepped towards the doorway, stopping when they realised I wasn't following.

"Aren't you comin'?" Maggie inquired with a quirk of her brow.

I shook my head. "No I need to speak to Dr Cloyd about somethin'. Get her to check somethin' out."

Maggie shrugged. "Okay, we'll see you tonight at Rick's place then."

I waved her off and then turned back to Doctor Cloyd, watching me with a look of confusion on her face.

"I only saw you yesterday. Is the wound bothering you?"

I shook my head. "No I just thought you could use your machine. To check everything is okay."

Dr Cloyd smiled reassuringly. "Everything's fine Beth, I don't need a machine to tell me that."

"No." I said clasping my hand over the slight curve of my belly. "I need you to check if _everything_ is okay."

* * *

The afternoon sun was low in the sky and casting orange light throughout the living room when Daryl finally arrived home.

I had been holding my body tight with nervous anticipation all day, and I had spent the afternoon pacing out my tension in the living room. I had sent the children in the back yard to play so they didn't have to see me as anxious as I was and start worrying that something bad had happened. It wasn't bad, it was good, but it was also scary.

Daryl had barely put his crossbow on the floor before I had limped over to him and thrown my free arm around his neck to draw him in for a kiss, and squeeze out some of my tension against his chest.

"I have a surprise for you." I said producing the camera. I hoped it might help sweeten the news he was about to hear.

He took it, his features set in stone, and examined it.

"Don't know that there's a point. The batteries won't last long, and neither will the film."

I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. "Is that a thank you?"

Daryl's brow jumped, as if he had just come to realise something. "Sorry, Beth." He stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks."

"And I got somethin' else for you too." Giddy excitement took over me as I pulled out the slip of paper from its hiding place inside of my bra.

I was about to present it to him, when the sullen look on his face caught my attention.

"Is somethin' the matter?"

He shook his head and mumbled, "No."

He tried to step past me, but I grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him back towards me.

"Did somethin' happen at work today?"

"No." He muttered. "Nothin' happened."

"That's good right?"

He sighed and turned his eyes up to the ceiling. "I guess so."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I dunno, Beth. Everythin's great. Everythin's perfect. You and I both know when everythin's goin' right for us, somethin' always comes along t' change it all."

"Not all change is bad." I insisted. "Sometimes it's for the better."

"There's no way things _could_ get any better. The way things are now, it's better than I could've ever had it b'fore. I got a house, a job, a girl, kids, a dog." He smirked and shook the camera in his hand. "It's like picture perfect."

He placed the camera down carefully on the entry table. "Things are just the way I like 'em. I don't want anythin' comin' along and screwin' with it. I just wanna enjoy it, just for a lil' while, at least."

I felt like my whole body had tuned to ice. I was riveted to the spot. I didn't even think I could speak. My news would bring a huge change to us both, and I wasn't so sure that Daryl would be happy about it, even if it was supposed to be good news.

I turned away from him and pressed the picture to my chest. I would have to tell him eventually, but I had forgotten everything I had prepared to say to him, to assure him it would all be okay. Maybe if I gave him a little more time, just like he had asked for.

"What's that?" He said peeking over my shoulder towards the object clenched in my hand. "Did y' take a picture?"

I hesitantly pulled the picture away from my chest and presented it to him. "Yeah. An ultrasound picture of…Maggie's baby." I lied.

Taking the picture in his hand he screwed up his face and cocked his head to the side to examine it.

"Looks kinda like an alien."

I clenched onto the embroidered neckline of my dress in an effort not to slap him.

"Yeah, I guess it does."

He turned the picture to the side to examine it closer. "How old is it?"

"Around twelve weeks."

"hmm" He mumbled before thrusting the picture back toward me.

"Don't care how safe it is in 'ere, with what there is out there, ain't no time to be havin' more babies."

I swallowed back my protest and lowered my eyes to the ground, hoping he didn't see my guilt.

He didn't seem to notice, walking past me and heading towards the back door to where the kids could be heard playing outside. "Throw a sweater or somethin' on." He called over his shoulder to me. "Rick's slaughtered the cow and fired up the grill. We're havin' real meat tonight."

* * *

Upon our arrival to the safe zone, Rick had insisted we have a party to celebrate us being together again. Our prison family and those we had met on the way to the safe zone, and some of the new friends we had made here. However as I had been out of commission, not being able to walk for the first couple of days, it was decided a party would be held as soon as I was able to enjoy the festivities.

The smell of chargrilled beef was mouth-watering, and the taste of it was like heaven in my mouth. I had not had beef for two years as it seemed so few cows had survived the outbreak, I figured they were as slow as walkers. Rick, Daryl, Austin and Carl had gone out on a hunting trip two days before and shot down a few deer in order to barter for the meat, and it was a welcome treat to us all.

I had never heard a room of people as quiet as we were chewing on our steaks, only the occasional moan of pleasure, and slurping of tongues over lips broke through the silence every once in a while.

Once the eating was done with the real celebration began, with Rick putting rock music on the stereo and pulling out scavenged, saved and traded bottles of scotch and wine, and an ancient case of beer with the cardboard all sun faded and peeling.

I avoided drinking any of it, and sipped on flat ginger beer along with Maggie, and Bob who seemed to be trying his hardest to stay away from the various shades of alcoholic liquid.

By the time I had refused my third glass of wine Maggie's eyes began to get narrower and she watched me with more scrutiny.

"Why aren't you drinkin' Beth?" She asked me suspiciously.

I turned my back to her quickly, and pushed the can to my lips in an effort to cover my giveaway facial expression.

She waited for an answer, her eyes not leaving me.

I wiped my lips theatrically and shrugged. "Well, I'm not twenty one yet…so."

"So?" Maggie quirked a brow at me. "Your boyfriend is old enough to be your daddy and you think you're too young to drink?"

I glared at her angrily for the reference to Daryl's age.

"Sorry." She held up her hands placating. "But it is kinda silly don't you think? Daddy wouldn't mind, Officer Grimes won't mind, I don't think Daryl would care or even notice."

We both looked towards Daryl who was standing at the kitchen table, wildly slapping cards down and yelling playful insults towards Abraham, Glenn and Heath, while the other men sat back and cheered him on.

He had started off light with a few beers and then dug into a bottle of scotch with Rick, disappearing for a time into the rear yard and returning pink faced and stumbling…

And smiling and laughing and doing all the things I never thought I would see Daryl do.

He was now stuck into a game of poker that had started off friendly, but was now getting progressively more competitive with Daryl playing for cigarettes, and offering up a future catch of squirrels in exchange.

I shook my head. "It's not that." I insisted. "You know how Daddy was with the drink, I just don't think it interests me much."

Maggie scrutinised me for a few seconds before smiling and turning her gaze back to the men playing their game. I couldn't help but notice her eyes resting on my belly for the slightest of seconds. Feeling like my secret may be out; I backed my way away from her.

"Think I might check on the kids." I said, excusing myself.

I stepped back into the living room where the children were. Austin, Carl, Jane and another one of the neighbourhood girls were playing a mock game of poker which seemed much friendlier and more mature than the one the adults were playing in the kitchen.

I jumped, startled when a muscular arm gripped me around the waist and tugged me back into a firm hard chest. His liquor smelling breath blew hot against my ear, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. He planted a wet, whisker tickling kiss on my shoulder, and then loosened his grip so I could spin around to face him.

His cheeks were bright red, his eyes were all glazed over, and his smile was so high and wide, that his eyes creased at the side under the force of his raised cheek bones.

"How's my girl?" He asked, as he placed his hands under my arms and on my shoulder blades, tugging me towards him so we were standing chest to chest ─ or chest to shoulder in our case.

I wrapped my free arm around his neck. "I'm fine, but not as good as you it seems."

"Come for a walk with me." He insisted, loosening one arm, and using the other to pull me along.

I let him guide me through the living area and out on to the front porch into the cool night air. I shivered and tugged my sweater across my chest tighter as the cold nipped on my bare skin.

Daryl slipped his hand into my palm, loosening my hold on the empty can of ginger beer and balanced it on the porch banister before pulling me into him.

"You hear what they're playin'?"

I listened in to the sound of the stereo that travelled through the house.

"Bon Jovi?"

Daryl nodded and started swaying slowly from side to side.

"Daryl Dixon, are you dancin' with me?" I interlocked my hands behind his neck and let myself be moved along with his motion.

"Guess I am." He made a fumbling attempt to dip me, almost dropping me, but saving me from a fall by putting out his knee.

I grunted in pain, as my leg sprung out in front of me, stretching my wound.

"Shit sorry." He grumbled, before setting me upright.

I giggled at him and his cute attempt to pull off a dance move he surely had only ever seen on TV. "You're really drunk." I said, stating the obvious.

"I'm shit faced!" He exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"You better behave yourself, Mr Dixon; you can be a real jerk when you drink." I teased.

He shook his head, and set serious looking eyes on me. "I ain't got nothin' to be a jerk about."

I let my fingers creep up into his locks of hair and rubbed them into the back of his head. "So you're gettin' used to everythin' bein' nice?"

His broad shoulder shrugged under my arms. "Yeah ─ I mean─ might 's well enjoy it while it lasts, huh?"

I nodded, and dropped my head onto his shoulder, trying to hide the guilty look I could feel growing on my face.

His chest rumbled low and soft and I smiled to myself as the sound developed into an off key croon.

_And I ,_   
_will love you,_   
_baby_   
_Always_   
_And I'll be there_   
_forever and a day_   
_Always_   
_I'll be there till the stars don't shine_   
_Till the heavens burst_   
_and the words don't rhyme_   
_And I when I die, you'll be on my mind_   
_And I'll love you_   
_Always_

* * *

We stood out there for a few moments swaying softly, with the cool night breeze blowing across the backs of my bare legs. I listening in to the steady thud of his heart beat mixed in with the drone of the music, the murmur of drunken voices, the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs that lived in the gardens surrounding the home.

The swaying came to a stop and Daryl took in a quick sharp breath, which made me pull my head back and look up at him.

"What d' y' say we get outta 'ere." He said with a sly grin, cocking his head towards our house next door.

I returned the sly grin. "To do what exactly?"

"I'll show y' when we get there." He murmured slowly, with a quirk of his brow.

I giggled and shrugged my shoulders in an innocent gesture.

"But what about the kids?" I said as I twirled my finger across his chest.

"Leave 'em, they're havin' fun."

I glanced back though the screen door to the room crowded with our friends and family. Austin was still playing his card game with the older kids, and Winnie was playing momma with Judith, chasing her around the coffee table.

"Okay." I said with a shrug. "Guess they know where to find us."

"Hope they don't come lookin' too soon." Daryl said, the side of his lip curling. He tugged me towards the porch steps, and wrapped an arm around my waist to assist me down.

I followed him across the damp lawn and stifled my giggle when he leapt over the fence in one bound, stumbling as he landed in the bushes that surrounded our fence. When he had recovered he turned back and scooped me up to lift me over, more gracefully than his acrobatic attempt.

I wriggled for him to put me back down, but he merely grinned and held me tighter and marched me to the front door of our home carrying me as if I was weightless, and helping me to kick of my shoes by the front door, where I liked them to be.

The inside of the house was dark, being well past dusk now, but the drapes had all been left open during the day, and allowed the room to be filled with silvery moonlight.

Daryl carefully let my feet fall to the floor, and then pulled me in forcefully, pushing his hot and wet lips against mine, his sweet and sour tasting tongue prying into my mouth.

The kiss was long and lingering wet and rough, involving the use of drunken tongue and lips and teeth, and it left me trembling at the knees and quivering between the legs.

I gasped for air when he finally moved his mouth away from mine, "So you're not scared to…touch me anymore?"

"You're fine Miss Greene, I seen the way y' were dancin'."

Pulling me hard up into his chest, and gripping my face between his hot and damp hands, he turned my head and kissed me again, starting behind my ear then turning my face again so he could find my mouth, then tilting my head back so he could trail kisses over my chin and end them at the base of my neck.

When I had gathered some kind of hold on my elated senses, I opened my eyes to see he had dragged me across the room to the base of the staircase.

His kisses moved across my collar and to my freshly exposed shoulders as he slipped my sweater off and let it drop to the floor. He continued to nip at my skin, moving down lower over my chest as he stepped forward, urging me back up the stairs.

A combination of my heels being caught on the steps, and him being a fumbling drunk, ended me up on my backside halfway up the staircase.

I let out a quick yelp as pain shattered through my hip, but the sound was muffled out by Daryl dropping to his knees before me and placing his mouth over mine.

"Are you okay?" He murmured as he drew away, asking more out of formality than out of true concern.

I nodded, and allowed him to kiss me again, turning my head to the side to allow him access to my ear, which he nibbled lightly, his deep breaths stimulating my sensitive spots and making me arch my back and sigh with exhilaration.

His hands slipped from the small of my back, over my backside and down over my thighs, then up the hem of my dress until they had found my hips, where they fumbled at the waistband of my underpants.

"Don't you want to wait 'til we get upstairs. To the bed?" I suggested, while allowing him to slip my underwear over my knees and then toss them over his shoulder, landing them at the foot of the stairs on top on my sweater.

"Ah, so _now_ you wanna wait for a bed?"

I giggled and pushed him away playfully. "That was different. There wasn't a bed only a few yards away." I said nodding my head up to the open bedroom door.

"Live a little, Greene." He hooked one of my legs over his shoulder, and began slowly pressing soft wet kisses into the inner side of my thigh.

I moaned with anticipation as I felt his hot breath getting closer to the sweet spot, and cried out loud when his lips finally brushed against it.

He pulled his face away from me, and looked up, the moonlight catching the blue in his eyes. "Is it your hip? Want me to stop?"

"It's not my hip." I weaved my fingers through the hair on the back of his head and tugged his face forward so he could resume what he had been doing before he dared stop to speak.

Daryl slipped his arm under my other leg, so that now both my thighs were resting on his shoulders, my backside was balanced precariously on the step and my feet were rubbing against the stitched on angel wings on his back as it bobbed up and down, while he worshipped my sweet spot with his tongue.

With my free hand I gripped on to the wooden baluster, to hold myself steady as my body rocked and arched and shuddered as the heat built deep in my belly and exploded between my legs in recurrent bursts, increasing with intensity with each wave.

It was the barking of the dog that made him finally stop and come up for air, the moisture in his whiskered chin glistening in the moonlight.

I tried to hold on to my gasping breaths while we listened to Mix's barks slowly fade away.

"Think there's trouble?"

Daryl shook his head. "Prob'ly saw a possum."

He crawled himself forward, pushing himself between my legs and kissing me on the lips allowing me to taste my sweetness, mixed in with the taste of scotch and beer and tobacco.

I felt him fumbling down between my legs and heard the clanking of metal as he loosened his belt, and then crinkling of plastic as he dug his hand into his pocket.

His arm froze for a moment and his face drew tight. I wondered if he had suddenly come to realise that he no longer needed one.

"Somethin' the matter?" I asked, wanting him to be the one who figured it out on his own, to save me the trouble of confessing.

He shook his head. "Nothin' to worry y'self about. I'll talk to y' 'bout it when I ain't been drinkin'."

He pulled out his hand to reveal a square condom package pinched between his fingers.

"Here?" I asked as I lifted myself up onto the next step trying to retreat to the bedroom and to the comfort of a bed.

"Why not?" He asked, as he followed me, tearing at the packet with his teeth.

"There are steps in my back." I said, lifting myself quickly up several more steps.

He took a moment to roll the condom down over the bulging length of him, and then crawled up the steps after me.

"We can't have that can we?" He slipped his arm behind my back, and tugged me to the side so I rolled onto my stomach.

I stifled the cry of pain with my hand as my hip hit the step, not wanting to discourage him from his sudden spontaneity.

I braced my hands against the top step, and angled my backside towards him so he could enter me from behind and he did so, pushing through the tight muscles, that hadn't been used in days, with a long and deep groan.

I let out my own moan, as his full length buried itself within me, hitting my deepest depths and making my insides squirm in ecstasy.

His hand slipped under my chest and found its place gripping onto my breast, and I gripped onto the nearest baluster to hold myself steady as he began to withdraw and insert himself slowly at first and the harder and faster.

"Don't…think…I'm gonna…last…long." He grunted into my ear as he continued to thrust into me

"Uhrm." Was the only thing I managed to reply.

He gripped me on the hips, his good hand on my good side a good deal rougher than his injured hand near my wound. As he built up momentum, his breaths grew more laboured and his groans grew deeper.

When he had reached just the right speed and forcefulness, I was tipped over the edge of my climax, gripping onto the baluster tight, feeling as though the solid wood would crumble in my hands, I threw my head back and let out a high pitched moan into the darkness that shadowed the ceiling.

Mingled with the sensation of my own convulsions, I could feel him throbbing within me too, as he let out his own loud groan, and then with a cry of relief, he collapsed heavily on top of me, forcing me into the carpet on the landing of the stairs.

I lay there for a moment, allowing myself to catch my breath and listening to Daryl's breaths steady and slow.

His breath eventually grew so slow and steady, I thought he had fallen asleep.

"Daryl?" I whispered.

He shifted slightly above me and mumbled, "Yeah?"

"I've got somethin' to tell you."

He body pressed against me grew tense. I thought maybe he knew what I was going to say, but then I noticed he was holding his breath as if he was listening to something off in the distance.

"You hear that?" He asked.

I held my breath and listened to the sounds of the night.

Starting of low and gradually getting louder was the urgent hollow clang of the town halls emergency bell.


	13. Life

The bell was clanging more urgently now, loud enough to be heard by any walkers that may be outside of the fifteen foot high concrete fence. For this reason the bell was only used in absolute emergency, where the threat to lives was greater than the threat of passing walkers.

Beth watched me with wide eyed terror, as I tugged off the used condom and fumbled at my belt buckle. My hands were sweaty and heavy, affected by the overabundance of alcohol I had just drunk. Of all nights for something to go wrong, it had to be the night I was drinking.

I stumbled back against the balustrade and edged my way down the stairs. “Where the fuck did I put my bow?” I called up to Beth who was clamouring to her feet.

“I don’t know.” She said with shrug.

“Fuck, Dixon!”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember if I had taken it to Rick’s house. I had thought ─ stupidly─ I didn’t need it. It could only be by the front door where I usually put it when I came home from work.

I strode across the darkened living room, trying to avoid the furniture as the world swayed around me. My Stryker was still there resting up against the door frame, loaded with a bolt. I picked it up and swung it on my shoulder and turned to Beth, who was following behind me, limping and hopping, while she tried to pull her panties back on.

“Stay here.” I demanded pointing a finger at her feet.

“But I…”

“Stay here!” I repeated more forcefully. “You’ll be no good with your leg like that.”

“You can’t go Daryl” She insisted. “You’ve been drinkin’, and aren’t the people on watch tonight supposed to handle any trouble?”

I shook my head. “Nah, if they’re ringin’ the bell, it’s ‘cause they can’t handle it. And I ain’t that drunk any ─” Shit, I _was_ fucking drunk.

“Slap me.” I called, stepping up to Beth.

“I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

“I know it ain’t but I deserve it for bein’ a dumb fuck and lettin’ m’self get carried away with the drink, thinkin’ we were all safe. It was dumb. Dumber than openin’ that darn door for the walkers back at the funeral home.”

Beth pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow. I thought she was about to protest but then she drew back her hand and let it fly forward, slapping me hard across the face. It stung like hell, and it almost felt like she did it for her own personal enjoyment and not just to help me, but it had shaken some of the blurs away, and that was a start.

I turned back to the door and pulled it open letting a cool rush of air enter the home.

Stepping out onto the porch I could catch the sound of distant shouts and cries, mingled in with the toll of the bell.

I looked over to Rick’s house to see Jane was standing on the porch holding Judith on her hip and with Austin and Winnie in front of her.

I turned back in the house to Beth. “Go next door with the kids, stay inside and shut all the lights off.”

Beth nodded and closed the door behind her, limping down the steps after me, struggling to keep up and then veered off towards Rick’s house, just as Austin came running across the lawn to meet me.

“Go back to the house with Winnie and Beth.” I said pointing a finger back to the house.

“But I can help” He protested

“No. Y’ need to stay with Beth.”

“But…I’m a good fighter; I know how to use a gun.”

I stopped in my stride and swung on him aggressively, “I ain’t losin’ you again, kid!”

He pouted and jutted his chin forward definitely, “I did just fine without you.”

I sighed and dropped my hands on his shoulders. Broad shoulders. He would be a big boy one day. A bog boy who could handle more than just himself. “I know.” I said giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Look, Beth ain’t in the condition to be fightin’, I need you to take care of her and Jane and the kids a’right? Be the man of the house.”

Austin dropped his eyes and mumbled “a’right.” Before racing back to meet Beth inside the house.

I picked up the pace jogging down the street towards the town hall, narrowly avoiding a black cat that ran across my path, his eyes glowing bright in the darkness.

The bell and the shrieks and cries were all getting louder, and now mingling in with the familiar growls and snarls of walkers. A huddle of woman were standing by a fence staring down the street towards the shadows of people moving in the darkness around the centre of the town.

“Get inside and shut of your lights!” I commanded. They simply stared at me blankly.

Damn fools new nothing of this world.

One woman was standing out in the middle of the road looking towards the commotion ahead.

“Hey get inside!” I called coming up behind her. She didn’t move.

“Hey!” I called grabbing her by the shoulder and swinging her around.

Her dead eyes locked on to me and her rotten jaws gaped open, snarling she lunged her head towards me. I managed to dodge out the way and drop her to the ground.

That was dumb as fuck. If I hadn’t have been drinking so much I probably would have noticed the blood stains all over her clothing much earlier.

I loosened my Busse and stabbed her in the back of her head while she was trying to fumble to her feet.

I could spot more of them now, half of what was ahead of me were walkers, the other half untrained citizens trying to fend them off. Some of them beating them over the shoulders with a shovel, others trying to stab them in the heart with kitchen knives.

“Go for the head!” I called as I ran past. “Don’t you fools know nothin’?”

My first stop was the town hall, which was already filling with bodies, trying to escape to safety, not realising they were putting on a smorgasbord.

I dodged through the crowd of muttering people towards the back of the room, where Douglas’s son, Spencer, was tugging on the rope to ring the bell.

I tore it out of his hand. “Sound attracts them dumbass!” I called throwing the rope back towards him to see if he was dumb enough to ring it again.

Judging by the lack of bell tolls as I ran out the hall and over towards the wall, I guessed he had listened to me.

I made my way through the groups of walkers and citizens, hacking and slashing at those who needed it at the dead, and yelling at the living to either fight properly or go home.

A little girl was running through the bushes of a nearby house with a hungry walker on her tail. I swung my bow off my shoulder and fired a bolt into its head, then ran forward to retrieve it. “Go home to your momma kid!” I called to the stunned looking little girl.

She looked past me and squealed and I turned and forced the bolt in my hand through the eye of a walker as it lunged at me. The bolt snapped under the pressure of the walkers falling skull as it fell to the ground.

Fuck. And I had forgotten to bring my spare quiver. I cursed Rick for trying so hard to get me drunk. And I cursed myself for letting him.

I caught a bulky frame and a flash of red in the moonlight race past me as I was urging the girl on home, and hurried to keep up with him.

“Abe.” I called. “What the hell happened?”

He scrutinised me for a moment and then stopped when he realised who I was.

“The wall. Some of the panels, they weren’t as strong. We ran out of concrete and had to make ‘em from timber frame and sheet metal. A herd came through and started pushin’ it down.”

He waved a hand through the air. “Come with me, we gotta back some trucks up against the panels to stop em from comin’ through.”

I followed him to the parking lot by the front gate, where he retrieved a set of keys form the gate house, threw them at me and pointed towards a ford pick-up. I jumped in and started her up, revving her a few times to get the engine firing. From behind the wheel of the car I saw two figures in the darkness jump on to the four-wheeler motorcycles and ride them straight towards the front gate.

“what the fuck are they doin’?” I called out to Abe in the truck beside me.

“Glenn and Heath. They’re gonna try to draw the herd away.”

I found myself silently praying for Glenn to make it back alive. With a baby on the way, Maggie couldn’t afford to lose him now.

I followed Abe to the breach in the wall where members of the safe zone were pushing up against the wall, while others hacked at the clawing arms that sprung through the gaps, with knives and axes and anything sharp.

I swung the truck around shifted into reverse and backed towards the bodies slowly, urging them out of the way as I closed in on the wall. The panel slid its way back into place, slicing dead arms from their bodies, that fell to the floor their mangled hands set in a permanent claw.

Satisfied the wall was secure; I got out of the car and went back to taking out the last of the walkers that were stumbling through the streets of the safe zone.

While I was stabbing my way through a few slow movers I heard a familiar cry from behind me. I finished the walker I was dealing with and turned to see Bob had fallen to the ground with a walker attached to his foot, dragging its way up his leg.

I sheathed my Busse and swung off my Stryker, aimed and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

My drunken fool ass had forgotten to reload the bow.

“Fuck!” I cried as I quickly pulled out a bolt, cocked the bow and loaded the bolt into place.

I raised the bow again to see I was too late. Bob was being swarmed by so many walkers I couldn’t even hear his screams over their hungry groans.

“Fuck.” I muttered to myself, as I raised the bow and fired into the only logical target.

* * *

 

The word was scribed in Sasha’s neat handwriting over the painted timber panelling. It was a name among a list, and a list among many that covered one of the walls in the church. All the lists had grown over night. We had lost fifteen people in total. It had been a lesson to all of us. We needed to be alert, and we needed to train these citizens in survival. The good life has made them all soft.

I sighed as I ran the remaining fingers of my right hand over the last name on our list. The name I was responsible for.

I felt a small hand slip into mine and give it a squeeze.

“You okay?” Beth asked.

I shrugged and looked up the wall to the top of the list.

“This was the list that Rick started when he first came to the safe zone.” I explained to Beth. I pointed right to the first names. “That’s Amy and Jim and Jacqui. Y’ never even got to meet ‘em.”

Beth shook her head and scanned her eyes over the list.

“Annette and Shawn.” She muttered.

“Sophia.” I added.

She touched the wall with her free hand and ran her fingers down further.

“Merle.” She said giving me a sympathetic smile.

I scanned down the list a little further. “Hershel.”

“Tyreese, Tara.” Beth continued before swallowing. “Carol.”

I squeezed her hand reassuringly, hoping I could squeeze away the pain of what happened to her.

Rick wasn’t even certain if Carol was dead or not, he had just made the assumption. I had never told the group what Carol had done to Beth, and I didn’t think I ever would. It was better for everyone if we remembered her the way she was before. It was better for Beth.

“We should add the names of the kids from the school.” Beth suggested, cutting through the tension.

I nodded in agreement, and smiled at her, before turning back to the wall and pointed to the last name on the list.

“This one’s on me.” I muttered.

Beth scoffed. “It was not, Daryl.”

“Yeah it was. I was so fuckin’ shit faced, I couldn’t even remember how t’ use my own fuckin’ bow, and he died ‘cause of it.”

Her soft fingers went to my chin and tugged my face down to look at hers.

“Daryl, how many walkers attacked him?” She asked, knowing the answer, I had told her this story a dozen times throughout the night while I beat myself up over the events. “I dunno, a few. Five or six.”

“Right.” She said with a nod of her head. “And how many can you shoot with your bow?”

I took a long pause realising what she was trying to say, “One.”

“So you couldn’t’ve done anythin’ Daryl. It was his time, just like it was time for all these people.” She said waving her hand over the list.

I frowned and looked down to my boots, not feeling free from guilt just yet.

Beth took my chin and turned my face up to hers, and pulled me in close so she could wrap her arms around my hips.

“You know what Jane told me? She said that when everyone else was partyin’ and drinkin’ Bob was the only one sober and alert. He was the one who heard Mix barkin’ and knew what it meant. He followed Mix to the breech in the wall. It was between houses, in a blind spot, the watch didn’t notice it. Bob was the one who alerted them all. He saved everyone, and he died, but he died helpin’ the people he loved.” She squeezed my hips as I let my eyes drop.

“You said that he was always the last one standin’ in every group he had been in, and he hated it. He hated bein’ alone.” She pointed back to the list of names on the wall. “He’ll never be alone again.”

It was quite ironic really, that several months ago Bob and I had nearly come to blows because he had put lives at risk all for the sake of getting’ a drink, and now he had saved our people by _not_ drinking. He had lost his life, but in my eyes, it had brought him redemption.

Beth smiled up at me sweetly, as a small smile crept on to my face. The girl always knew just the right thing to say to make me feel better. While I looked down on her I thought that I couldn’t possibly love anything more than I loved her.

The diamond ring in my pocket was burning a hole against my thigh.

It seemed like just the right moment, standing in a church, talking about never being alone again. The church was mostly empty now that the service for the ones we lost last night was over. If I dropped a knee, no one would notice, I could propose to her without turning red as a tomato.

I dropped my hand into my pocket and clasped the ring in my palm. It suddenly felt like it weighed a tonne. It suddenly felt like it was a stupid idea again.

_Stop bein’ a pussy and ask her, Dixon. It isn’t stupid to marry someone you love, even if she is half your age._

At that moment Douglas’s son, Spencer, walked through the isle of the church, passing behind Beth. He was a neat looking boy, tall and lean, with short cropped blonde hair. He was young, only a few years older than Beth, and smart; being trained to run this place if anything ever happened to his dad.

I dropped the ring and pulled my hand out and put it on to Beth’s hip.

There was still that lingering doubt if I was good enough for her. There were other guys here now. Other guys like Spencer, who were younger and smarter and better looking than me. She might not want to be with the old dude with a dark past when she realises she has better options.

I sighed and pulled her forward to kiss her on the forehead.

“I gotta get back to work. Half the town’s gone mad blamin’ this person and that person for what happened. Rick will need my help to control the crazies.” I pushed past her to head towards the church door. “I’ll see you at tea time.”

* * *

 

I walked in the gate just before 5pm when the sun was getting low in the sky, and the streets were filling with kids playing outside while their parents prepared them some dinner, the kids who weren’t scared of last night’s events anyway.

I walked up the steps of the porch and toed out of my boots to leave them by the door as Beth always nagged me to. Mix lifted his head sleepily from the tropical printed chair cushion and eyed over them, salivating.

“Don’t even think about it.” I cautioned him, before pushing open the door. “you may’ve done good last night boy, but you ain’t havin’ my boots.”

Mix whimpered and tucked his nose under his paws.

The rich smell of home cooking wafted through the room as I entered the house. It smelt like real food and not something from a can.

I slipped my crossbow off my shoulder and propped it by the door, and followed my nose into the kitchen, to see Beth with her back to me fussing over the stove, in a summer dress printed with red flowers and green leaves.

“What y’ makin’?” I asked as I approached her from behind.

She turned to face me and I saw her lips were a bright red, painted in lipstick. Her hair was caught back in a neat ponytail, accenting her jaw bones and the pink of her cheeks. She was wearing a pink frilled apron, looking just like a suburban housewife.

“I got some left over Beef from Rick. Makin’ you a hearty stew.” She squeezed my bicep. “Make you big and strong.”

I peered into the pot on the cooktop and breathed in the rich scent, my mouth watering instantly. “Smells good.” I glanced through the window into the backyard. “Where’re the kids?”

“They’re stayin’ at Rick’s tonight.” She said matter of factly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You seemed really down today, after everythin’ that’s happened. I thought you could do with some cheerin’ up.”

She pointed over my shoulder towards the dining table in the attached dining room. It was set with cutlery and crockery and two burnin’ candles.

“Romantic.” I said as I approached the table.

“Yes, and its ready, so you go wash up, and I’ll get it all served.”

I did as I was told using the downstairs bathroom and then went back to the dining room to see Beth sitting at the table patiently waiting for me, with the candle light dancing in her blue eyes.

Two large bowls filled with the stew sat on the table among the carefully arranged crockery.

I sat down and scooped up the stew, enjoying her creation with a series of contented hums and savouring every bite. The beef tasted even better the second time it was cooked. Or maybe it was just due to Beth’s excellent knowledge of mixing herbs and spices.

After three servings I sat back in my chair and gave my expanding guts a pat.

“Any room for desert?” Beth asked eyeing over me in my relaxed state.

“Sure.” I said sitting up to attention, thinking that desert was probably the reason she had sent the kids away.

Beth stood, brushing down the folds in her dress and walked to kitchen counter to collect a large crystal bowl that had been sitting under a teacloth by the window.

She brought the bowl back and set it in the centre of the table where we both could reach it, and sat herself back down, with a warm smile on her lips.

“Mixed berries, in sugared syrup. It’s really the only desert I could make with what was available.”

“Oh.” I muttered, a little disappointed desert wasn’t sex after all.

She pinched a plump, deep red strawberry between her thumb and forefinger, dripping with sugared syrup, and brought it straight to her lips, baring her teeth around it and clamping down. The drips of strawberry juice and syrup, collected over her red lips and slowly ran down her chin, leaving a trail of pink behind.

Oblivious to the mess she had made, she went back to poking her finger into the bowl of berries stirring around the bulbs of rich colour.

A small huffing sound pushed through my smirking lips.

“What?” She asked, her brow cocked and her lips parted in a look of puzzlement.

I leaned back in my chair, took a hand under my elbow, and while rubbing the hair on my chin, I examined her as if she were some glowing white sculpture in a fancy museum.

She tossed her hair gently over her shoulders and smiled wide and bright, “What is it?”

I slapped my hand to the table and pushed myself up to a stand, and then strode over to her chair, grabbing it by the back and screeching it over the linoleum as I swung her around to face me.

Dropping a knee between her legs, so I could look her in the eye, I put my thumb to her jaw bone and drew a line across it to her lips. I brushed across the sticky painted flesh, drawing it downwards, collecting some of the juice, and then curled my index finger under her chin, to catch the small drop that clung there.

Satisfied I had cleared the majority of the mess, I took my sticky fingers back to my mouth and cleaned of the residue with my tongue.

She blushed and giggled, and made to swipe the back of her hand over her lips, but I grabbed hold of her elbow stopping her, and leaned in to finish of the job with my tongue.

Tilting her head back, I licked firm and slow starting where the column of her throat disappeared into her jaw, and then over her chin to the curve of her lower lip.

Catching her sigh in my mouth, I took both of her lips between mine and pressed down firmly against them, suckling and running my tongue over their sweetness and then drawing back to release with a wet smack.

I felt her body shudder, starting somewhere lower down, felt through the tremble in her elbow and ending where my other hand held the back of her head.

“Never thought anythin’ could make sugar taste sweeter.” I commented with a lick of my lips.

She swallowed and muttered, “Uhuh.”

I pulled her mouth back to mine, and dropped the hand from her elbow to her hip an slid my hand to the small hollow in her back, pulling her against me as I stood, so she stood with me.

“Is desert over?” She murmured against my lips.

“Not just yet.”

I spun her around so that her ass was resting against the table, and then slowly forced her backward, kissing against her chest and then the fabric of her dress that clung to the form of her tits, and then down to her belly, until she was lying flat among the recently used dishes.

I parted her knees, and pushed my way between her legs so that her thighs were resting against my hips, and my growing cock was pressed against the warm spot between her legs.

Satisfied she was right where I wanted her I turned and reached to the side to grab the bowl of berries.

“What are you doin’?” She queried as she raised herself up on to her elbows.

I placed the bowl in close reach and then pushed her shoulders back down on the table, while slipping my finger under the straps of her dress and sliding them down over her arms, past her elbows so that the neck of her dress was gathered around her waist.

“Havin’ desert.” I told her as I picked up another fat strawberry and leant over her so I could place it in-between her parted lips.

“You have yours.”

I went back to the bowl and scooped a sticky wet mess of raspberries and blueberries, and dripping the excess juice over her exposed skin, “And I’ll have mine.”

I smeared the berries over both of her tits leaving a lumpy pattern of pink and purple. She gasped as the fruit touched her, and arched her back so the mounds of her tits rose into the palm of my hand. I smoothed the mess downwards over her belly and tucked my hand under her dress and down into her panties, smearing the last of the juices over her clit while she squealed and squirmed and was forced to spit out the strawberry in her mouth.

“You’re gonna stain my clothes, Daryl.” She breathed, the smile on her face telling me she didn’t really give a damn.

Grinning, I lowered my mouth down to her tits, taking one in my mouth, twirling my tongue around her sweet cherry, collected the berry mush in my mouth and swallowing it down before doing the same to the other tit.

She moaned and sighed and quivered beneath me as I moved back and forth between her tits, licking and sucking up all the syrup and juice that was left behind.

I moved my mouth, downward over the ridges of her flexed rib cage to the softer, more giving flesh of her belly, delving my tongue into her navel to slurp out the small pool of juice and berry flesh.

I tucked my fingers into the bundled up material of her dress, reaching in further to collect the waistband of her panties, and slipped it all down over her hips and thighs and let it all drop to the floor between my feet.

I went down on both knees so that her pussy, glistening in both her own juices and juices from the fruit, was positioned in easy reach of my mouth.

I moved my hands under, around and over her thighs, and dragged her forward so her ass had just come over the edge of the table. I gripped around her thighs to hold her in place, and took the beating of her feet pushing into my back, as she cried, moaned, squirmed and bucked while I went to work clearing the mess I had made all over her.

I slid my tongue into every creases and groove, and suckled on her swelling, smooth clit until I was sure she was so clean she sparkled, and then a little longer just to hear her moan.

When I was satisfied that we were both done, I stood between her legs and looked down on her heaving damp body.

Her hands had curled in the table cloth, and pulled it into great lumpy creases all around her. The candles had tipped over and luckily extinguished. The glasses had tipped over, knives and forks had slid of their plates, the remnants of dinner were spread everywhere.

“Shit Beth, you’re lyin’ in the middle of a culinary shit storm.” I teased.

She opened her eyes and looked to both sides and then laughed, her whole body shuddering in waves.

I took her hands and pulled her to an upright position, so I could lift her off the table, wrapping her legs over my hips, and holding her tight against my chest.

“Where’re we goin’.” She asked, giggling softly.

“We need to finish this upstairs.” I said as I swung her around and marched through the kitchen into the living area.

She gripped on to me tightly as we approached the stairs, apprehension showing in her eyes.

“Don’t drop me.” She squeaked, looking up the stairs.

“I won’t.” I assured her as I leapt up the stairs two at a time, deliberately shaking her around just so she would grip her naked body tighter against me.

Once inside the bedroom door, I slowed my pace, and kissed her gently on the lips in an effort to calm her shaky breaths.

I gently put her down on the bed, and stood back so I could shoulder out of vest and let it drop to the floor. Beth stood and helped me to undress, tugging open the buttons of my torn flannel shirt roughly, and sliding it off my shoulders, letting her soft hands linger on the extended and flexed muscles in my arms.

I went to unbuckle my belt, but her tiny fingers caught between mine and the brass and she pushed my hands away, finishing the job off herself as she trailed soft wet, tickling kisses over my chest and abdomen and finished them in the hair that trailed up to my naval.

I looked down on her pale smooth hands as they worked to loosen my fly, and then tugged at the waistband of my jeans, pulling them down to my knees and allowing my rock-solid cock to spring free and near knock her eye out.

She wrapped one hand around the length of my cock and used her other hand to pull me in closer by the ass.

She looked up at me with her big wide innocent looking blue eyes, and slowly parted her lips, revealing the soft, moist opening within.

I groaned so loud the noise vibrated my inner ear, as she slid my cock into her hot mouth, clenching it between her soft tongue and hard palate above.

She pushed me further inside her, swallowing me down as her lips moved down the shaft of my cock until there were only a couple of inches from the base. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about how deep I was in her throat, or how amazing it felt.

She drew me in and out of her mouth slowly at first and then faster, and I slipped my eight fingers into her hair to slow her motion before I blew into her mouth and gave our fun a premature end.

It was only a few more slow strokes before I couldn’t take anymore, and holding her head in my hands I pulled her back slowly, and squeezed my cock to stop it from blowing when she turned her big eyes up to me and still, somehow, looked innocent.

“Make y’self comf’table.” I told her, flicking my fingers to the pillows, and she scooted back while I kicked off my jeans and went looking for a condom.

I ripped open the package and rolled it down and then turned back to Beth, chewing her lip and looking sexy but anxious while she stared at my enraged cock.

“What’s wrong?” I said as I crawled over the bed towards her. “He ain’t gonna hurt y’.”

She tossed her head gently. “It’s not that.”

I pressed myself against her, wiggling my way between her hips until her hot wet pussy was pushed up against the head of my cock.

“What is it then?” I said as I leaned in and nipped her on the ear.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.” She breathed.

“Hopefully a few minutes.” I smirked at her, before tilting my hips and plunging my way into her, groaning as the walls of her pussy clenched around my cock.

I dropped myself lightly on to her, pushing her hardened nipples into my chest, and tucking her soft blonde hair under my chin. I held her hips firmly to keep her in place and started moving in and out of her slowly and deliberately listening to the tone and pitch of her cries to figure out how she liked me to move inside her.

Her pussy started spasming around me almost instantly, clenching and releasing as she moaned loud into my ear, and the sound and sensation was too much to bear. I squeezed her hips in my hands and drove myself into her hard and deep, making her moans turn into deranged praises to myself and God.

“Beth!” I groaned in reply as my nuts tingled and clenched and my cock shuddered and exploded inside her, spilling my liquid into the rubber barrier.

I collapsed on top of her, my limbs suddenly floating away and my head spinning around like a flying saucer and floating off into space. I lay there for seconds or minutes or hours, I wasn’t sure how long it was, but when Beth’s voice broke through the haze we were both breathing slowly and steadily.

I felt her catch her breath and then swallow against my shoulder.

“Daryl?” She murmured softly.

I rolled to the side so I could see her face, pulling myself out of the warmth between her legs.

“Yeah?”

She sighed and swallowed again. “We should have a baby.”

My laughter was cut off when I caught the serious look in her eyes.

“Hell nah!” I exclaimed shooting up and ripping off the condom that held all potential for her suggestion.

Damn Maggie had been filling her head with bullshit baby ideas.

She sat up quickly and watched me as I fumbled uncomfortably as I tried to tie the condom.

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “We ain’t ready.”

“Well, why? ─ what are we waitin’ for? It’s not like I have to go to college. It’s not like we have careers to focus on, I’m never gonna be principal your never gonna make chief. We’re not gonna travel, we’re not gonna have to save for a home deposit.”

I stared at her in disbelief. She had really given this some thought.

I flung the condom across the room, landing it somewhere out of sight, why was this conversation making me so damn nervous. “You’re just a kid, you can’t be havin’ no babies.”

_What a dumbfuck thing to say._

She raised her brows and tilted her head down, glaring at me furiously. “I’m old enough to fuck, but not old enough to have your baby?” She shrilled at me angrily. “Maybe you didn’t notice _old man_ , but you aren’t gettin’ any younger. You’re technically old enough to be a granddaddy already!”

I cut her off, by grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a firm shake in an effort to break through her outrage.

“Christ, Beth, I didn’t mean it like that. We both know you’re the more mature of the two of us. What I meant was… _I’m_ just a kid. I’m not equipped to deal with a baby. I barely know what t’ do with the kids we have now.”

“But you do a great job with Winnie and Austin…”

I let go of her shoulders and rolled back onto my ass, letting my hands rest on my upturned knees.

“I don’t think I would know how t’ love another person. I already got you, and the kids.” I took in a deep breath and sighed. “Rick, Carl, Ass kicker, Maggie…sometimes Glenn…that’s a heck of a lot of people for a Dixon to love.”

Her angry features had softened into a smile as she listened to me speak. She leaned forward and touched my chin, turning my face toward hers.

“One more won’t make a difference.”

“But…” Not able to hold her intense gaze I let my eyes drop. “It would be my own ─ my own flesh and blood. It would be a whole different level of love. It ─ it kinda scares me.”

“You don’t need to be scared, I’ll be here to help.” She said softly before leaning in to kiss me.

I waited for her to pull away before I spoke again. “We ain’t havin’ a baby, Beth, don’t you remember what happened last night, what happened to Bob. We’re never gonna be safe. The baby would never be safe.”

“Yes it would. We would keep it safe.”

I threw myself back on to the bed, and covered my eyes with my arm, not wanting to look at her. Not wanting to be here. This conversation was way too intense.

“No, Beth.” I said with finality.

The room fell into silence for a few moments. It was so still I couldn’t even hear Beth breathing. I moved my arm to check if she was still there. She was. Glaring down angrily at me.

“Get out.” She muttered.

“What?”

She jerked her arm towards the door pointing an angry finger.

“Get out!” She yelled, making me jump and roll off the bed as my body reacted the way it normally does to a threat.

“Jesus Christ, Beth. I…”

“Get out.” She screamed again, her face going bright red. She lunged herself forward picked up a pillow and threw it hard enough at my head that I stumbled backwards into the wall.

“Sleep on the god damn couch!” she screeched. “I don’t want your…your … _fucking dick!_ Anywhere near me!”

Stunned and a little shaken, I picked up the pillow, stepped into my jeans and hoisted them up with one hand and then backed away, hastily, somehow terrified of this tiny, blonde, screaming, crazy woman who looked like Beth.

“You sure enjoyed fucking the _kid_ you didn’t want to have a baby with didn’t you asshole!” She screamed leaping from the bed and slamming the door in my face.

Feeling suddenly brave with the barrier of the door between us I retaliated. “You sure know how to go from zero to fucking nuts in naught point two seconds don’t you… _bitch!”_

I coughed choking on the last word.

_You are an asshole Daryl Dixon._

“Damn right I am!” I responded to myself as I pounded my feet angrily down the steps. “Too much of an asshole to have a fuckin’ baby!” I yelled back towards the door.

“A fuckin’ baby.” I repeated to myself as I tossed the pillow on the nearby couch, and then vaulted over the back of it, landing lengthwise onto my bed for the night and kicking my feet nervously into the armrest.

It was stupid laying here. There was no way I could sleep with her being so angry, and with me feeling so guilty about calling her a bitch. Heck it wasn’t even dark out, it couldn’t’ve been much past 6pm.

I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the early evening. Thinking about what the hell was wrong with Beth. This was the way she had been for weeks now, all over me one second and then hating me the next, it was like she was getting her period or something.

I froze as realisation finally sunk in.

“You stupid fucking fuck.” I said to myself, as I pressed my palms to my forehead.

“You fucking dumb dumbass.” I groaned as I pulled myself of the couch.

“That’s real fuckin’ observant Daryl. You did a real fuckin’ good job of readin’ the signs.” I muttered as I paced up the stairs.

I pushed the bedroom door open slowly and crept in with my tail between my legs. Beth was lying face down on the bed sobbing into the pillow. My guts fell straight down to the floor heavy with guilt.

“Beth?” I called hesitantly from the doorway, a little in fear for my life, and rightly so.

Her sobs stopped but she kept her face down buried in the pillow. “I’m real sorry.” I said as I edged my way closer to the bed. “For bein’ an ass and for…not knowin’…what was goin’ on.”

I sat down on the bed beside her, carefully placing a hand on her back. She flinched at my touch, but didn’t try to stop me. I traced my fingers up and down the furrow in her back that ran the length of a spine, trying my hardest to be comforting and soothing, and hoping it would be enough to calm her down.

“When y’ hadn’t bled for a while, I thought it was normal, ‘cause y’ said y’ ain’t been gettin’ y’ period much after the farm. And all those times we had sex and y’ didn’t make me use a condom, I thought you’d just got kinda lost in the moment. When y’ were sick, I thought it was ‘cause of the stress of losin’ the kids. When y’ got upset ‘cause I took y’ to that hospital, I thought y’ were just bein’ Beth, not wantin’ to see a… _baby_ …And all the mood swings. I thought y’ were just gettin’ your period again.” My hand slipped down the side of her rib cage and I dragged her across the bed, tucking her into my body, and then rolled her back into me so I could look down at her tear stained face.

“Any one of those things on their own, the average man would’ve thought nothin’ of it.” I leant forward, putting my lips to her cheek, catching the hot and salty drops that collected there. “But me? I’m s’posed t’ pick up on things like this. I’m s’posed t’ read the signs and put ‘em all t’gether.”

I ran my hand over her chest, brushing over her tit and then cupping it from below, feeling the weight and firmness of it. It was definitely fuller and the nipple was dark, almost black in the dimly lit room. I ran my hand down over her ribs and to her belly and splayed my fingers carefully over the curve between her navel and pubic bone. There wasn’t much of a bump yet. It couldn’t be very far along. Maybe only the first few months.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling deep regret tear through me as I realised the ultrasound picture she showed me the other day wasn’t of Maggie’s baby after all.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I muttered into the darkness.

She cleared her throat and replied in a strained husky voice, “I was scared you would say you didn’t want it.”

I moved my hand carefully over the area on her lower belly, getting familiar with every line and curve. It would start to change soon, as my baby grew.

_My baby._

A cold chill crept over my body and I shuddered, releasing a tear from my duct and feeling it roll down the side of my nose.

“I was scared too.” I muttered, before leaning forward and pressing my lips onto her belly. I looked up at her, keeping my lips against her. She looked down on me with fresh tears glistening in her eyes.

Everything about this felt so right and so good and so perfect. I had come to the realisation that I was scared of being happy more than anything else. But if Beth had taught me one thing, it was that life was all about being happy.

I dug my hand down into my pocket, and ran my fingers over the warm gold band. There was no point in being scared anymore.

“But, I _do_ want t’ have a baby with y’, Beth.”

I pulled the ring out and placed it carefully on the still glistening wet spot where I had just kissed her.

“And I want you to marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I was really nasty with that last chapter, I wanted you to think I was going to kill Daryl. *cackles evilly*  
> Did you pick up on all the foreshadowing;  
> chapter 11  
> -Daryl saying Beth could handle herself  
> -Daryl's song choice  
> -Making Daryl drunk and clumsy  
> -The title 'Live' to make you think the next would be 'Die'  
> Chapter 12  
> -Telling Austin he's the man of the house  
> -The black cat  
> -The near misses with the walkers  
> -The snapping crossbow bolt  
> Yeah, think I want to be the next Gimple :)
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. I have obviously left some storylines open so I could write a sequel, but at this stage I don't know when or if that will happen. I got a lot of negative reviews over the last several chapters and its a little disheartening, and I kind of found it hard to get the motivation to write recently. Maybe if there's a lot of interest and maybe when TWD comes back on I will get more motivated. So all I can say in regards to a sequel is: Maybe.
> 
> Thankyou to all my loyal readers and thankyou to everyone who left comments on this work. Thanks for sticking through all 200,000+ words of emotional torture, I know it was hell, but I hope it was worth it.
> 
> On another note, I will be putting focus into other projects I put on the back burner while I was writing this. One is another Bethyl fic, but AU (no zombies). I would love beta readers for this, so if you're into Bethyl AU, have decent spelling, grammar and punctuation skills, and if you happen to live in the South (that would be a huge bonus as I know nothing of southernisms) Then please contact me here or at my email, which I think is on my profile page.
> 
>  
> 
> Again. Thank you all! Love you xxx


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